


Who the Fuck is Keith

by cornflakes_canvas



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Drama, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Relationship(s), References to Depression, Romance, Roommates, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-05 12:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 84,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12190167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornflakes_canvas/pseuds/cornflakes_canvas
Summary: "I need you to pretend to be someone's boyfriend for me."Tags will be added throughout.





	1. There's this guy, Kyle ...

**Author's Note:**

> There are references to anxiety and depression in this, please do not read if these might be harmful to you in any way. <3  
> Enjoy, and thank you for reading this absolute piece of garbage.

“Danny.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“I need to ask you a huge favour.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Ralph shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed opposite Dan's, currently occupied by the very same. Dan, wearing about six layers of clothing (at least two of which looked suspiciously like they had been snitched from Ralph's half of their shared wardrobe), sat cross-legged amidst a small mountain of pillows, a number of books resting in his lap. His large tortoiseshell glasses were slightly fogged up by the steam rising from the battered coffee cup he was balancing carefully on top of the books. His dark hair was a mess of fluffy strands sticking out in a million directions.

 

Lying on the light blue duvet in front of him was a small notebook covered in scribbles and doodles, most of them barely decipherable; in his lap a book titled _Queer Shakespeare – Desire & Sexuality_ atop a massive edition of the very ironically titled _Compact Oxford English Dictionary_.

 

He turned another page of the book discussing the famous English playwright, eyes scanning words swiftly, absorbing sentence after sentence, snuffling slightly in the admittedly chilly air of the friends' shared dorm room.

 

It was a carefully crafted picture of peace and calm, a bubble in which he existed all by himself – just Dan and his coffee and his books and his thirty layers of clothing, which still didn't seem to be able to stop him shivering as the occasional cold breeze rode in through the rattling window. It was a bubble which Ralph was currently struggling to break through.

 

“Daniel?”

 

Dan's eyes lost their focus on the page for a moment and Ralph leaned forward slightly, hoping to have finally caught his friend's attention. The other boy continued to stare straight ahead for another second, before sneezing quietly, his tall frame shaking briefly. He tried to hold the mug higher up with one hand as if this was going to prevent him from spilling any of its content – it didn't. Dan looked back down at his book, snuffling again and using the sleeve of his black hoodie to wipe at a small puddle of coffee, which was surely going to leave a stain on the page, like a permanent bookmark.

 

Ralph sighed. “It's really important,” he tried again.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Ralph huffed in exasperation and threw himself back on the dark grey sheets of his bed, staring at the ceiling. There was a cobweb in the corner of the small room, closer to Dan's bed than to his, and he considered informing his friend of the crawling invasion, before deciding to let him get eaten by whatever eight-legged monster the cobweb inherited – a small yet satisfying enough revenge for being ignored.

He sighed again, then leaned on one of his elbows and looked at Dan's skinny frame thoughtfully.

 

“I made out with Woody last week.”

 

“You what?”

Finally, Dan looked up from his book, furrowing his brow in confusion, a faint smudge of black ink smeared on his cheekbone like war paint.

He seemed to consider Ralph's words for a moment before he shrugged and returned his attention to his reading. “Always knew you were into guys.”

 

Ralph sighed and buried his head in his hands, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees.

“I'm not gay, Dan,” he clarified, speech muffled by his hands.

He dragged his fingers down his face. “I was trying to get your attention.”

 

Dan smiled suddenly and Ralph was slightly taken aback by how forced the smile appeared, before it finally seemed to reach his friend's eyes, a spark bursting from the blue like a firecracker erupting just above the surface of the ocean.

“You know where I am when you realise what you're missing out on,” Dan said in a low voice, tearing his eyes away from his friend and looking back down on his notes, tracing a particular line of scribbles with his finger, before taking a tentative sip from the steaming mug in his left hand, warming his fingertips on the hot ceramic.

 

Ralph stood with a sigh and shuffled over to Dan's bed quickly, shutting the massive dictionary in the other's lap with force, only barely avoiding crushing Dan's hand between the pages and knocking the cup from his grasp.

 

“What, right now?” Dan asked, surprised. He raised an eyebrow and smiled at Ralph, before carefully placing the cup on the bedside table and gazing up at his friend, something playful and challenging gleaming in his eyes.

_This guy, I swear to God._

 

Ralph sat down next to him on the bed and enveloped Dan's freezing hands in his own, rubbing and warming the cold skin with the fabric of his knitted cardigan.

“I'm not gay, baby. I need you,” he said, trying to convey the gravity of his words in the gaze he directed towards his best friend.

 

“Getting mixed signals here,” Dan said and immediately added a hurried “Okay, okay!” when Ralph looked like he was about to lose his last ounce of sanity. He sighed a deep sigh and Ralph realised his best friend was expecting the worst.

“What do you need?” he asked finally and pulled his hands from Ralph's warm hold and crossed his arms over his chest, shivering slightly now that he had given up both his source of warmth and caffeine.

 

“Okay,” Ralph took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable.

“I need you to pretend to be someone's boyfriend for me.”

 

Dan stared at him, unmoving, no emotion showing on his face. Ralph stared back, trying his best puppy eyes.

 

“No,” Dan said, uncrossed his arms and opened his book once more.

Ralph's hand shot out and slammed it shut once more, making Dan jump and glare at him, annoyance now clearly the most prominent emotion in the younger man.

 

“Danny, please.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“It's really important!” Ralph pleaded, putting one hand on Dan's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

 

“No way!” Dan jerked his shoulder away from Ralph quickly, shrugging off his friend's warm hand.

 

Ralph sighed, holding the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Just … just let me explain, please. Let me explain.”

Dan raised his eyebrows at him impatiently, indicating that he better get on with it or fuck right off.

 

“Right, so,” Ralph started, scooting closer to Dan, urgent gestures accompanying his words.

“There's this guy, Kyle. He's cool, alright? He's good-looking, man! And-and really nice! And he plays the keyb-”

 

“I am not fake-dating Keith.”

 

“Kyle.”

 

“Stupid name.”

 

Ralph ignored the remark and continued with his praise of the other, trying desperately to persuade his best friend to help him. “Anyway, Kyle is awesome, man. Last year, for example, he totally saved my ass! He gave me all his notes on Transformational Theory, all I had to do was ask! Without him, I would've totally failed the exam. I wasn't ... I wasn't in the right frame of mind to do any studying then.”

 

Dan looked, really looked at him for the first time then, any and all emotion wiped from his face like writing from a chalkboard. Ralph was certain he saw a shadow of something like guilt flash across his features, but anyone who didn't know the other man as well as he did would have missed it.

 

“That really isn't fair,” Dan said quietly and looked away from his friend, suddenly appearing strangely fragile on the small bed, surrounded by his books.

 

Ralph swallowed heavily.

“I-I didn't mean it like that. I'm not trying to guilt-trip you into anything,” he hurried to clarify. “I'm sorry, Danny.” He took Dan's hands between his own again, softly this time, comfortingly.

 

It was quiet for a moment, while Ralph smoothed a gentle thumb over his friend's pale knuckles.

A faint memory of the smell of bathroom cleaner and the sound of pounding rain slowly crept its way into his mind, seeping into his thoughts like black tar from every corner of his consciousness, when Dan groaned loudly, making Ralph jump, suffocating memories dissipating as soon as they had appeared.

 

“So why does this Keith guy need a fake boyfriend now?” Dan asked and Ralph's face lit up with hesitant but unmistakable hope.

 

“Kyle. He broke up with his girl a while ago and now she's kinda stalking him,” Ralph said as quickly as possible and looked at Dan expectantly, who looked back at him with confusion etched into his features.

 

“... and?” he finally said, drawing the word out in one long syllable, as if he couldn't be sure his friend was in the right mind to understand even the simplest remark.

 

“He told her he realised he's gay,” Ralph said as if this was the only logical punchline for his little story.

 

“Which he isn't.”

 

Ralph shook his head.

 

“Like you!” Dan said with a bright smile.

 

Now it was Ralph's turn to be confused.

 

“So you're more than qualified to play his boyfriend,” Dan concluded, trying to make his words sound as final as possible.

 

Ralph laughed. “He'd never date me.”

 

“No. He wouldn't,” Dan replied slowly, “cause he's straight.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

Dan groaned again, pushing the heavy book off his legs.

“So let me get this straight.” _The irony._ “You want me to fake-date this guy.”

 

“Kyle.”

 

“Kyle. _Kyle?!_ Did you know that when I was two years old, my dad's crazy neighbour _named Kyle_ tried to kidnap me? So, you want _me_ to fake-date Kyle, whom _you_ owe a favour, so _he_ can convince his crazy ex that he's _gay_ , which he's _not_ , so _she'll_ stop stalking him, and _you_ can't do it yourself cause he'd never date you if he _was_ gay. Which. _He's not._ ”

 

Ralph considered his words for a moment, then broke into a small grin. “Sounds about right?”

 

Dan huffed a humourless laugh, bordering on hysterical. “So, how and when exactly did this become _my_ problem?”

 

Ralph's smile dropped from his face briefly, before reappearing in a more sheepish fashion.

Dan stared at him, not a hint of humour on his face, and Ralph settled for a neutral expression and cleared his throat.

“I told him I'd do it and he said he'd never date me, so-”

 

“Hold up,” Dan interrupted. “You're not involving me in this cause you're offended that a straight guy said he wouldn't bang _you, also a straight guy_.”

 

Ralph let out a high-pitched laugh. “No. I told him my best friend is a gay, single, attractive guy who would surely be happy to help a brother out,” he said and at least had the good grace to look guilty at the admission.

 

Dan's laugh was full on hysterical this time. “Ralph! I am _not_ available, I am _not_ attractive and you told him I was up for it before even asking me?!”

 

“How are you not available? Has something happened in the last twenty-four hours that has suddenly swept you off the market and also somehow escaped my attention?! And let's not argue about the attractive bit either, cause that's just not gonna lead anywhere.”

 

“Exactly,” Dan scoffed, burying his hands deep in the pocket of his hoodie. “And no, nothing has happened. You should know by now that I don't do relationships.”

 

Ralph went quiet and cast his eyes to the floor, playing with the seam of his worn cardigan. He twirled a loose thread of the dark blue wool around his middle finger and pulled it off again, frowning slightly.

“Well, maybe you should,” he muttered under his breath and Dan cut him off with a strained, unsteady “Ralph ...”

 

“I know! I know, okay? Don't think I don't feel bad about this! I do! I didn't mean to involve you in anything, but you know I can't say no to people!”

 

“And you know _I_ can't say no to _you_!” Dan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

 

Ralph looked up at that, a cautious smile threatening to break out on his face. “Does that mean …?”

 

“I'll fucking fake-date Keith!,” Dan groaned, letting himself fall back on the pillows and drawing in a shaky breath, which was immediately knocked from his lungs when his friend pounced on him forcefully and enveloped him in a huge, bone-crushing hug.

 

“I am gonna regret this, aren't I,” Dan muttered after he had recovered from the good-natured force his friend was using to show his gratitude. He put his arms around Ralph's shoulders and sighed heavily, whilst burying his nose in the crook of the other's neck.

 

“I'm _definitely_ gonna regret this.”

 


	2. I said I'd do it, didn't I

Dan didn't sleep well that night.

 

To be fair, he usually didn't, but tonight was a low even by his standards.

He regretted saying yes to Ralph, and he regretted it deeply. He couldn't do this. He couldn't pretend to be in love with a guy he'd never met.

Hell, he didn't even know what Keith looked like, for crying out loud!

 

What was the other man going to expect him to do? Hang out in public where people could see them together? Definitely. Hold hands in public to seem more convincing? Probably.

 

Kiss? In public? There was no way Dan was going to be able to do that, or anything like it, ever.

 

Instead of tossing and turning like he usually did, he felt almost paralysed as he lay on his narrow bed, staring at the ceiling motionlessly, the staggering sense that the panic seething in his chest was inevitably going to boil over and swallow him whole making his skin feel tender and itchy.

 

As he struggled to even out his breathing, listening to the sounds of cracking and creaking branches shaking in the tough October wind, Dan tried to remind himself – he was doing it for Ralph.

His best friend Ralph, who he had put through so much. This, finally, was his chance to redeem himself, an opportunity to maybe, possibly, get rid of some of the weight on his shoulders, the permanent guilt that had been lurking around like a detached shadow ever since he saw the expression on Ralph's face almost a year ago, when Dan had finally returned home.

 

He sat up with difficulty, dragging his stiff, freezing hands through his messy hair with a sigh. He was sick of feeling guilty and exhausted. He was so sick of it.

And Ralph had said the guy was nice, a good person. Whatever that implied.

 

Dan could do this.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

 

A bright, flickering light post, inconveniently placed right in front of their window, cast a faint glow through the ramshackle shutters, inviting light and shadows alike into the room and coaxing them to dance across the grimy ceiling, illuminating a large cobweb that sat in the corner closest to Dan's bed.

He wrinkled his nose and drew his knees up to his chest. _Disgusting._

Of course now was as good a time as any to remember what his godfather had told him about spiders when he was a child – how they would sometimes crawl into an unsuspecting person's mouth while they were fast asleep and be swallowed whole by their new host.

Dan shivered. What a deeply disturbing thought.

 

Suddenly and without forewarning, Ralph's voice rang out from across the narrow space between their beds, rough with sleep.

 

“If we lived in Australia that could probably kill you.”

 

Dan very nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart beating against his ribcage as if the two were engaged in a fistfight.

 

“Jesus fuck, Ralph. Fucking _warn_ me, alright?!”

 

The soft light falling in from the window barely succeeded in lighting up Ralph's features as the man lay in bed, arms casually crossed behind his head, but Dan could just about make out his deeply furrowed brow.

 

“Like … how? You want me to text you before I talk? Or would you like me to throw a rock at your head next time?”

 

Dan pouted and lay back down, facing Ralph and drawing the rough linen blankets tightly around his skinny frame. He felt like a human leaf, shivering in the storm, barely hanging onto the twig it was dangling from dangerously.

“Don't be a smart-arse.”

 

“Can't help it.”

 

“Yes, Ralph, I know. Trust me.”

 

Ralph laughed quietly, yet still, his voice seemed to resonate too loudly in the dead silence of their darkened room. The friends kept still for a moment as they listened to the sounds of raindrops on glass, shuddering tree crowns, and wind whistling through the corners of the badly insulated building.

 

Dan looked at Ralph, at his posture, his face. The way he was staring at the ceiling.

“Can't sleep?” he asked softly and Ralph tore his eyes away from the paint flaking off the wall and looked at Dan with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

“Can't help it,” Dan said and a small smile spread across his face, despite the weariness and unease inside him, bubbling just underneath the surface.

Ralph picked up a small pillow and threw it at Dan, who instinctively curled up slightly and hid his face, waiting for the impact.

It didn't come – the man was a terrible thrower.

 

Ralph sighed and turned to face Dan, mirroring the other's position.

“You should sleep, Danny,” he said gently and even with his eyes now closed, Dan could see the worry on the other's face clear as day.

“'m trying,” he mumbled and kept his eyes shut tightly.

 

He heard a soft rustling of sheets, a small sigh, then a quiet, almost inaudible “Love you”. Dan waited for a few minutes, trying not to move under the uncomfortable covers that barely managed to keep out the all-encompassing chilliness of the room, then whispered an equally quiet “Love you too” and smiled to himself when he heard his friend shift once more, telling him that, as always, Ralph had waited for his reply.

 

It went silent after that, almost eerily so, and just as Dan had convinced himself that his friend had finally drifted off to sleep, he heard a muffled “Can I have my pillow back?” and with a small laugh he leaned over the side of his bed, reached for the pillow on the floor and tossed it back in Ralph's general direction, getting a muffled “Thanks” in response.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Dan tried to win the hopeless battle against his demons until the sun came up and the dreadful birdsong that seeped in through the window made him feel like it wasn't worth trying anymore.

 

So he got up. He got dressed. He took his meds. He brushed his teeth.

He replied to his dad's routine _everything okay?_ text with the regular _all good_.

He started his day.

 

Ralph gave Dan _Kyle's_ phone number (“Dude, you're gonna have to remember his name if you want to-” “ _Want_ to?!”) and said he'd given Kyle his and now Dan was sitting on his bed, anxiously waiting for instructions from his future-fake-boyfriend.

 

His hands were cold and his skin tingled where he'd been rubbing them together for the past twenty minutes, trying in vain to get them to feel less like solid ice and more like they were actually attached to the rest of his body.

To say Dan was nervous was a blatant understatement – he felt like someone was sitting on his chest, cutting off all airflow, making him sit up straight and breathe exaggeratedly every thirty seconds in a desperate attempt to force some oxygen into his lungs.

 

Ralph strolled into his line of sight from where he had been brushing his teeth in the tiny en-suite bathroom that looked suspiciously like it had been removed from a prison cell and transported to their dorm room brick by brick.

The continuous scrubbing noise coming from Ralph and his _stupid pink toothbrush_ heightened Dan's anxiety and he screwed his eyes shut and started grinding his teeth.

 

“Gotta pick up your prescription soon,” Ralph said, the mouthful of foam he was speaking around muffling his words. He waved his toothbrush in front of Dan's face, then gestured towards the almost empty blister pack poking out of the little white-and-green pillbox on Dan's bedside table, next to the stained coffee cup that occasionally served as a spider trap.

 

“Yes, thank you, Ralph, I fucking know. That's why I put them on the fucking bedside table.”

 

He was painfully aware of how strained his voice sounded and tried to ignore the concern he could see in Ralph's eyes when his friend stared at him, before disappearing into the bathroom momentarily.

 

Dan could hear him gurgling and spitting, then nothing. He closed his eyes, welcoming the almost soothing silence, placing a closed fist on his chest and willing his heart to stop racing.

 

The bed dipped next to him and Ralph cleared his throat. “You know I … I'm aware that I tried really hard to convince you to do this yesterday, but if you _can't_ I'm not gonna force you. Obviously.”

He was picking at his toothbrush, eyes downcast.

 

“I said I'd do it, didn't I,” Dan sighed and Ralph glanced up at him and opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by Dan's phone buzzing on the bed between them, making them both jump.

 

Dan seemed to have absolutely no intention of moving anytime soon, so Ralph grabbed the phone, unlocking the screen with the familiar passcode and checking the new message.

 

Dan looked at him expectantly, but the other only swallowed and pressed a few buttons in quick succession, then threw the phone back down on the duvet.

 

Dan blinked in confusion and when Ralph shot him a guilty side glance, he grabbed his phone and stared at the unlocked screen.

 

 

_Message Deleted_

 

 

“What was that,” he said – a statement, not a question.

Ralph looked even more remorseful at that but quickly seemed to regain his composure and straightened his back.

 

“He needs to leave you the fuck alone.” He wasn't trying to hide the anger dripping off the words.

 

Dan stared at Ralph and put a shaky hand on his friend's shoulder, turning the other to face him roughly.

 

“What did it say?” he asked, his own unsteady voice betraying the desperation flooding his mind.

Silence.

 

“Ralph,” he pleaded again.

Nothing.

 

“Ralph, please just tell m-”

 

“ _I miss you._ Okay? That's all it bloody said. Happy now?” Ralph got out through gritted teeth and got up off the bed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

 

Dan clenched his teeth and stared back down at the phone in his hand, wishing he could undelete the message, even though he knew full well that his best friend had every right to be angry.

But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help the memories that slowly resurfaced from where he had carefully hidden them away; memories of a very distinctive smell of cologne and coffee, the feeling of warm hands on his face, the rough material of a dark green cardigan prickly on his skin.

 

He swallowed heavily, could feel the heat spreading on his cheeks like wildfire, his gaze still fixed on the phone. _Fuck._

Dan heard a small sigh escape his friend, still standing in the middle of their room, felt the cold breeze when Ralph moved to sit back down on the bed swiftly.

“Please stop torturing yourself, Dan,” he said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his friend's back, stroking up and down his spine. “He's not-”

 

The phone buzzed again, making Dan flinch and drop it on the floor. He picked it up quickly, breath hitching when he swiped his thumb across the screen, hands shaking uncontrollably.

He blinked and his face closed off, his pale skin illuminated by the neon glow, eyes scanning the words quickly. Indifference was written all over his features.

Dan tilted the phone so Ralph could read the words as well.

 

 

_hi this is kyle!! come round to mine at 11 today to talk things thru?? ralph knows where_

_thx so much for doing this i owe u big time m8!!_

 

 

One text message and the guy already annoyed Dan.

“Are you sure he's not fourteen,” he grumbled and, lips pressed into a thin line, he stood and grabbed his grey hoodie jacket from the back of the chair that occupied the space in front of Ralph's desk (and was itself occupied by a mountain of clothes the two had worn over the past week), shrugging it on and shoving his hands into the pockets.

 

He turned to glance at Ralph who was looking at him worriedly. Dan stood up as straight as he could, trying to feign something like toughness, or indifference maybe.

 

“I know he doesn't care about me,” he said, cursing his voice for wavering unmistakeably.

 

His best friend looked at him with a strange expression on his face. He shook his head.

“He doesn't,” was all he said before he got up and enveloped Dan in a warm hug.

 

While he desperately clung to the warmth and safety of the other's embrace, Dan somehow managed to hold back the tears of frustration and pain, even when his friend added an almost inaudible “He never did.”

 


	3. Hit us with the summary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took forever.  
> Comments are greatly appreciated <3

To witness your best friend, your soulmate, fall hopelessly in love for the first time is a strange and wonderful, troubling and exciting experience. To watch horror-stricken as they have their heart shattered into a million pieces is utterly devastating; it makes one frightening question rise high above all else like a mountain towering over a dead city.

 

_If it hurts me this much, how much must it hurt them?_

 

 

 

Ralph was never going to forget the day, that perfect, peaceful autumn day about two years ago when Dan had told him he had a boyfriend.

 

It was surprisingly mild and Mother Nature was showing off her richest and most spectacular colour palette, melting down varying shades of orange, red and gold to compose a radiant ballad of warmth, and Dan, his Danny, who was more than apprehensive and less than conversational, was sat on Ralph's unmade bed, hands tucked between his legs, so obviously jittery it was almost painful to watch.

 

“I need to tell you something,” he had said on the phone that morning and Ralph had immediately felt suspicion tug on his insides, because honestly – when had those words _ever_ meant anything good?

He had invited Dan over to his mum and dad's, where they sat in silence for what felt like forever, the only sound inspiriting the room being the constant low buzzing of the ancient radiator that was slowly heating up the small space which felt so safe and familiar to them both.

 

Ralph didn't want to push Dan, fearing he might shy away and hurry home, declaring that he didn't want to talk after all. So he tried to be gentle and patient, but the continuing silence left him with a feeling of great worry pulsing in his chest, and it kept rising and rising, until he couldn't stay still any longer and demanded unceremoniously: “So, what did you wanna talk about?”

 

Dan stopped staring at the flickering patches of sunlight jumping impatiently over the dark green carpet as if they were the most intriguing thing he had ever laid eyes upon and looked at his friend, and Ralph could see a tender blush slowly but surely spreading across his cheeks.

 

As another moment of silence passed between them, Ralph watched a single beam of sunlight break through the window, illuminating his friend's features. The golden ray, subdued by the deep-red leaves of the large maple tree at the back of the house, made Dan's face look brighter, livelier, and for the first time in a long while, Ralph thought he saw something like happiness in the other's eyes and his heart started beating faster at the sight.

 

He had been worried, so worried, a dozen possible scenarios racing through his mind after the surprising phone call, one worse than the other, but he hadn't dared to believe, too aware of the mechanics of his friend's head and heart, that it might, in fact, be something good, something positive Dan wanted to talk about.

 

Ralph stared at him enquiringly and Dan cleared his throat and fidgeted around on the bed before he stilled suddenly and blurted out a strained “I've met someone” – and Ralph barely had time to register the utterly unforeseen words before Dan continued.

 

“I, uh, I'm dating someone. A man. And I think I love him.”

 

Silence.

 _Hold up._ Dan. Dating someone. Dating a _man_ – a man he was _in_ _love_ with.

Ralph briefly considered the faint possibility that maybe, yes, maybe he had been involved in some sort of accident and was experiencing a strange, unrealistic coma-dream; because there was no way in hell Dan had _actually_ just said those words.

 

But he only had to take one good look at him to erase any doubts. There was no joke, no misunderstanding; Dan was dead serious, and he looked at Ralph so desperately, so pleadingly, expecting him to say – what, exactly?

Of course, Ralph had Dan's back, always, and if his best friend had met someone and fallen in love, he would support the relationship, no matter what, no matter if he was dating a man or a woman, as long as they showed Dan the respect and unconditional love he so deserved.

And yes, Ralph had always had his suspicions, or more like theories, about Dan's sexual orientation, but strongly believed that there was no rush, no necessity to label these things.

 

On the other hand … this was Dan. And he was Ralph, the guy who would never stop trying his hardest to shield his friend from any harm or sadness. Relationships were messy and complicated, and of course, Dan was entitled to experience this messiness of his own accord, but the best friend, the brother in Ralph screamed at him to protect the younger man.

 

There was so much he wanted to say, about how proud he was that Dan had summoned up the courage to tell him, how _happy_ he was for his friend, how glad he was that Dan trusted him with this – this step towards being slightly more open about his feelings and possibly becoming more comfortable in his skin.

 

The only words, however, that tumbled out of his mouth, were “Who is he?” and it sounded a lot harsher than he intended, betraying the jealousy he felt and the nagging annoyance about not knowing that his best friend had let someone, some _stranger_ , into his heart in the first place.

 

Dan flinched and looked slightly taken aback at the sharpness of the question, and Ralph immediately felt guilty, but he _had_ to know. He had to know who this guy was.

 

Dan swallowed. “I can't tell you.”

 

“What?”

 

“I'm sorry, I can't tell you. He, um, he doesn't want anyone to know. Yet.”

 

_Well, this is a great fucking start, isn't it?_

“Why, is he ashamed of you or something?”

 

Dan stared at Ralph wide-eyed, looking almost like the older boy had slapped him.

“Should he be?” he asked, so quietly, so insecurely it made Ralph feel the urgent need to grab Dan by the shoulders and shake him and tell him over and over again that no one, _no one_ in the entire world, had _any right_ to ever be ashamed of him.

 

Instead, he stood and ran a hand through his hair, pacing restlessly around the room.

“No- no, of course not, Danny. I just … who is he? Is he shy, or embarrassed, or is he not out? Or- or why, _why_ doesn't he want anyone to know? I mean, you can tell me, I'm your best friend!”

 

Dan shook his head adamantly, and it hurt Ralph more than he cared to admit. Sure, they had secrets between them; there were a lot of things Dan didn't like to talk about, like his mum – or his depression. But this was an entirely different scenario. Surely, being in a relationship, being _in love_ , should make him _want_ _to_ share as much as possible about his newly found happiness.

But no, Dan seemed bound and determined not to give anything away.

 

Ralph sighed. “Okay, so can you at least tell me if he's, fucking, I don't know! Oh God, I mean. Ugh, you really had to just drop it on me like that, didn't you?!”

 

Dan smiled at him suddenly, appearing thoroughly amused, and wow, _that_ was new as well.

“Next time I'll notify you at least two weeks before I make a big announcement,” he joked and Ralph's anger and worry and, yes, _jealousy_  dissipated into _nothing_ and he plopped down on the bed next to Dan with another deep sigh and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.

 

He kissed Dan's temple, trying to avoid getting a mouthful of his messy hair.

“Just tell me he's good to you and I'll drop it … for now.”

 

Dan laughed. “He's good to me.”

 

Ralph looked at him and Dan seemed so peaceful, so genuinely _happy_ , and it was such a strange yet _beautiful_ look on him that Ralph could do nothing but smile back. He shoved Dan's shoulder lightly and Dan laughed again and they sat in comfortable silence before Ralph cleared his throat and said, as seriously as he could muster in his current state of mind:

“You know I'm not just gonna leave it though, right?”

Dan looked at him earnestly.

“You're like my little brother, Danny. I need to look out for you. So, no matter this guy's issues, I wanna know who he is. At some point. Soon. And I need to know you're happy and, uh, you know. Safe.”

 

Ralph glanced at Dan and watched him turn redder and redder until he groaned and buried his head in his hands, but Ralph could still see the wide grin on his face.

 

“Seriously Ralph, I'm not having _that_ talk with you. I'm _eighteen_ , for God's sake!”

 

Ralph laughed and decided to stop his inquiries, for now, instead enjoying watching Dan more radiant with joy than he had ever seen him. But he was serious – he wasn't going to drop it.

Yet for now, Dan was happy. And that was all that mattered.

 

 

 

Or so he thought.

 

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

 

10:36 A.M.

They were _slightly_ early.

 

Ralph lead Dan down a dimly lit hallway the younger man had never set foot in, walking past rooms full of people he didn't know.

Dan wasn't like Ralph, he didn't _know people_. And people didn't know him.

They knew about what had happened to him (even though Dan and his dad had moved to avoid this sort of thing – word travelled at the speed of light amongst the young and curious), but luckily they didn't know the details, and after the initial gossip upon his enrolment at university a few months prior, they had stopped trying to find out more. Now, nobody even seemed to remember ever being remotely interested in the introverted young man.

 

Ralph stopped in front of yet another unassuming door, the light-toned plywood covered in the remnants of countless layers of stickers in numerous shapes, forms and colours. Someone had obviously unsuccessfully tried to peel off as many of them as they could, possibly in a well-intended attempt at making the entrance look a little more inviting and less like it lead to a shabby restroom in the basement of a sparsely frequented pub.

 

The older man turned around and raised both eyebrows at Dan, who was pretending to be tremendously interested in a large, slightly faded, but surprisingly well-preserved _Femme Power_ sticker in the middle of the door, that looked like it had been added to the colourful collection fairly recently.

 

“You ready?”

 

Dan shrugged and stared wordlessly down the corridor and towards the direction of their room – longing for the safe and familiar hideout, his warm bed, his books, the coffee mug that was, admittedly, hideous and chipped, but strangely comforting – and pulled the sleeves of his hoodie jacket over his knuckles, and Ralph took this as his cue to get it over with.

 

He knocked on the flimsy door twice in quick succession. Nothing happened. He knocked again and glanced at Dan when a noise rang out from the other side that sounded suspiciously like someone falling out of bed and scrambling to get back up, knocking various items off their bedside table in the process.

Silence.

Then footsteps.

The door opened a tiny crack and a tall man with bed hair and bloodshot eyes squinted at them, confusion and anger fighting for dominance on his face.

 

“What the fuck, Ralph?” he said, voice rough with sleep, and slowly dragged an ink-stained hand down his face, leaving behind a faint streak of black on his left cheek.

 

Dan sighed, then turned to look at Ralph, eyebrows raised.

“Really important matter,” he mouthed, using air quotes and forcing a smile.

 

Ralph just shrugged, appearing mildly confused, and turned his attention back to the man in front of them, who was now leaning heavily against the door frame, groaning and looking like he was about to lose balance and topple over.

 

“Alright, mate?” Ralph asked as cheerfully as possible, but the other didn't respond, nor did he return the strained smile he was presented with.

“Uh … can we come in?”

 

With a non-committal grunt, the man pushed the door open – just wide enough for the two to squeeze through – and shut it clumsily behind them as soon as they had entered.

 

The room was almost identical to Ralph and Dan's – one unmade bed on either side, two desks at the far end, placed strategically by the only source of natural light, a rickety wardrobe on the left, a small bathroom on the right. The only difference seemed to be the dozens of presumably empty beer cans on the windowsill, the two desktops and even the floor, that explained why the room smelled suspiciously like a cheap bar at peak time on a Friday night.

The window shutters were closed tightly, making the crammed space dark and stuffy and leaving Dan struggling to adjust to barely being able to see five feet ahead of him.

 

The clearly hungover student, who was most probably responsible for the all-encompassing pungent stench, grunted, climbed straight back into his bed and struggled briefly with the messy covers, before turning to face the wall and pulling the blankets over his head.

 

 _What the hell._ Dan stared at the pile of sheets incredulously. The words _awesome guy_ and _really nice_ echoed in his head.

_I fucking knew this was gonna be a disaster._

 

“Hey, man,” Ralph said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. No response.

He reluctantly shuffled further towards the occupied bed, shaking the sleeping figure lightly.

“Hey,” Ralph tried again, more clearly this time, and was rewarded with a loud murmur of disapproval. Taking this as the encouragement he needed to continue, Ralph added:

“Will, where's Kyle?”

 

Oh. _Oh._

Dan suddenly felt uncomfortably warm and ran a clammy hand through his hair, watching nervously as Ralph kept trying in vain to get Will to talk to him. He turned away in an attempt to compose himself and hide his embarrassment about the obvious mistake and let out an involuntary yelp when he nearly ran face-first into a tall, dark figure that was towering over him threateningly.

 

Dan jumped and clutched his chest, heart hammering frantically. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck and watched in bewilderment as a bright grin broke out on the stranger's face while he looked the flustered boy up and down amusedly, eyes glinting with mischief.

 

“Please tell me you're Dan,” he said, hands on his hips, body language practically _screaming_ confidence, and all Dan could do was nod, words stuck in his throat.

 

“Awesome! I'm Kyle” the very same exclaimed loudly and rubbed his hands together in excitement. “And I can live with fake-dating you,” he added confidentially and winked at Dan, then threw an arm around his shoulders, leading him from the stuffy room without so much as acknowledging Ralph or his severely hungover friend, and clearly oblivious to Dan's discomfort.

 

“Let's go somewhere else, shall we? Sorry about my roommate. He had to finish a paper last night and let me tell you – it wasn't pretty” he chuckled, then looked at Dan, frowning.

“You aight there?” he asked, voice laced with confusion before his eyes widened slightly and he lifted his arm from Dan's shoulders as if he had burned his skin. “Sorry, should've asked,” he said and scratched his neck in what appeared to be embarrassment.

Dan blinked owlishly, struggling to keep up with Kyle's pace and adjust to his almost dizzyingly upbeat, chatty demeanour. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

 

“It's fine,” he said, trying a small smile, and Kyle beamed at him. “I like your voice,” he said with a grin and barged into a seemingly random dorm room, making himself at home instantly. As the taller boy sat comfortably on one of the neatly made beds and picked up a colourful cushion that looked like an oversized donut, spinning it round in his slender hands, Dan let his eyes run over the many flashy rings on the other's fingers. When Kyle picked up on it, he glanced at his hands, then stretched them out for Dan to inspect. “Admiring the rings or the nail polish?” he asked cheekily and Dan blushed and stammered “Uh, rings” and looked away in embarrassment. He hadn't even registered the meticulously applied black nail polish before, but it looked nice on Kyle. It suited him.

 

A very flustered Ralph chose this moment to finally join the duo – looking like he was seconds away from going hysterical – and closed the door, nodding at Kyle who waved at him enthusiastically, and guiding Dan to the second, unoccupied bed in the room, sitting them both down and resting a protective hand on his shoulder.

Kyle looked at them with a hint of amusement in his eyes, which quickly turned into irritation when he noticed Dan's quite obvious unease.

 

“Hold up. Ralph said you were totally fine with this,” he said, looking at Ralph accusingly, and Dan raised an eyebrow at his best friend.

Ralph had the good grace to look guilty, hands in his lap fidgeting with the seam of his jumper. He glanced up at Dan, who straightened himself and tried his best to shrug it off as if all this wasn't a big deal.

 

“I am,” he confirmed simply – and there it was again. That almost blindingly bright smile that Kyle just seemed to be able to throw at people. It was absolutely contagious and Dan couldn't help but smile back timidly, watching in wonder as Kyle's smile became impossibly brighter.

Ralph hadn't lied – Kyle was nice. And _yes_ , he was handsome. Tall and slim, fluffy hair neatly sculpted on top of his head, a few escaped strands grazing his forehead, the beginnings of a moustache and beard making his face look enticingly dark, warm and earnest eyes holding Dan's gaze with poised intensity.

 

Ralph cleared his throat, shaking Dan from his thoughts.

“Right. So,” he said, running his palms over his thighs, eyes focused on Kyle expectantly. “Hit us with the summary.”

 

“Uh,” Kyle started, furrowing his brow and holding the donut cushion close to his chest.

“I'm eighteen years old, I was born in London on the fifth of-”

 

“Not the summary of your life. Just … you know. Your ex and that,” Ralph clarified and Dan couldn't help but chuckle at Kyle's slightly embarrassed expression, startling Ralph who shot him a surprised side glance that Dan pointedly ignored.

 

Kyle cleared his throat and started over, “Right, my ex. Her name's Lily, we dated for, like, five months before I realised she's kinda odd, like, not- not in the cute, quirky way. Just plain- plain fucking weird. So I broke up with her and now she's kinda stalking me. Furious lurking.” He widened his eyes and wiggled his fingers in the air to underline his words.

 

Dan had to bite back a laugh that threatened to spill from his lips. _Cute, quirky. Odd._

 

“She made, like, _four_ different fake profiles on Twitter and stuff,” Kyle continued, “and I can see her staring at me whenever we go to the same class, and- and damn, I _swear_ I keep getting the feeling she's been in my room when I come back late, it's so creepy.”

 

He sighed, obviously feeling stressed about the whole situation, and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect style.

Dan cleared his throat and shifted, attempting to cover up his restlessness. “So, why'd you tell her you're gay? Couldn't you have told her you're seeing a different girl or something?” he asked.

Kyle shook his head, cheeks reddening quickly.

 

“I-I honestly don't know,” he stammered, hunching his shoulders. “I-I tried telling her that I'm dating someone else, but she didn't-didn't believe me. A-And then the words _I'm gay_ just sort of slipped out before I could think about what I was saying.”

He grinned apologetically, adding a sheepish “I know it's not cool, I'm-I'm really embarrassed about the whole thing.”

Dan shrugged and looked at Kyle thoughtfully, but didn't say anything.

 

“And she believed you?” Ralph asked, flicking his eyes between the two, and Kyle tore his gaze away from Dan slowly, dragging it over to Ralph almost reluctantly.

 

“Hell no,” he huffed. “But I insisted like an idiot and now she's told everyone she knows. If I don't do _something_ , she'll never stop botherin' me.” He looked back at Dan quickly.

“Sorry for dragging you into this, this must be so awkward for you.”

 

Dan shrugged again, pulling his sleeves over his hands. When neither of them said another word, Ralph raised his voice once more.

“So … I hate to sound like I'm Dan's manager or something, but since I'm the one who convinced him to do this, I'd like to know what exactly you plan on doing now.”

 

“Um … I don't … I haven't actually thought that far ahead,” Kyle said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes still focused on Dan.

 

Ralph chuckled. “You guys should grab a coffee, get your story straight,” he said and Dan's eyes lit up at the prospect of caffeine.

“Alone,” Ralph clarified quietly, and now it was Kyle's turn to beam excitedly, while Dan was staring holes into Ralph's skull, his eyes screaming _No_ over and over again.

 

Kyle, blissfully unaware of Dan's silent pleas, clapped his hands together and jumped up, making the older boy flinch. He stared down at Dan expectantly, looking remarkably like a five-year-old begging to be taken to _Toys “R” Us_.

 

“What, now?” Dan asked, sounding more panicked than he would've liked, and Ralph sighed.

 

Kyle's face fell slightly. “I mean if you don't want to ...”

 

“No no,” Dan hurried to clarify, “I- yeah, we can … yeah.” He bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard.

 

Kyle's face split into a heart-warming smile.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, adding “Lemme just grab my wallet!” and Dan stared after him as he rushed off, leaving the door wide open and Dan and Ralph alone in a stranger's room.

 

“So …” Ralph started after a moment of silence, and Dan knew his best friend was trying to tread carefully. Meeting new people was always a touchy subject for him and it usually took him a while to get used to having someone new around.

The weight of his past experiences was still hanging heavily on his shoulders, the blinding fear that people were going to judge him, as if he had a neon sign hanging above his head at all time, announcing his shortcomings and mistakes in flashy letters.

 

But he had to admit – he didn't feel _entirely_ uncomfortable around Kyle, and he couldn't help but linger on the tiny spark of hope rising in his chest, coaxing him to believe that this whole thing was going to be over just as quickly as it had started.

 

“What you thinking?” Ralph asked when the other stayed silent and Dan finally looked at him, opening his mouth to say something, when a strange voice rang out from the still wide open door.

 

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room?”

 


	4. Oh, what a shame, she was so nice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a filler to showcase Kyle's side of how the story came about.  
> Thank you for reading <3

_“The Rise and - Hopefully - Fall of My Crazy Crackbrained Stalker Ex”_ _– an autobiography written and illustrated by Kyle Jonathan Simmons._

 

Not that Lily had been crazy right from the beginning. He would not have dated her for all but six months if she was – or if he had noticed straight away that her quirky demeanour occasionally bordered on madness.

 

They had met through university (naturally), deeply immersed in a muddle of sweaty bodies, cheap drugs and cheaper pints at _someone's_ random mid-week party, after consuming quite an impressive (and stupid) amount of alcohol.

Kyle was under the hazy impression that she might have had a tad more than just a few of the stale beers and sickly sweet, colourful cocktails, but he wasn't about to judge her for it, and in his drunken frenzy, the recklessness that surrounded her like a faint whiff of smoke was what made him feel drawn to her in the first place.

 

Lily was very pretty – flushed cheeks, glitter nail polish, pink hair that looked like it had been dipped in candyfloss; she squinted her eyes adorably when she smiled, only showing a hint of their mesmerising green, chewed lightly on her lower lip whilst listening to his go-nowhere stories, and laughed heartily at his lame jokes. It drove him absolutely mad.

 

Kyle had only enrolled at university a few weeks prior and it was the first party he had dared to turn up at, so he couldn't quite believe his luck, but after a few hours of careless drinking, close dancing and near-constant talking, the two decided that making out in a semi-secluded corner of the room was the best idea either of them had come up with all day.

 

When they finally untangled their tired limbs in the early hours of the morning, when daylight started to slowly replace the flashing spots dancing around the strange flat like neon snowflakes, Lily scribbled her number across Kyle's phone case with a gold metallic marker and he called her less than five hours later to find out if she fancied a coffee – she didn't like coffee, but they spent a few very pleasant hours at his favourite café with a small assortment of tea and cakes, chatting and laughing; and by the end of the day they simply decided they were 'a thing'.

 

It felt great, Kyle was happy. Giddy. Excited.

University of his choice, lots of new friends, beautiful girlfriend – it seemed to be going well for him, and for a while, he felt invincible. The two had heaps of fun, went to lots of tiny gigs and open mic nights and crammed clubs that made Kyle worry he was ultimately going to seriously damage his hearing, they consumed their body weight in milkshakes and had in-depth discussions about their favourite musicians, movies and cat breeds.

 

The first time Kyle realised that his girlfriend might be a bit more into the idea of _them_ (in a 'and they lived happily ever after' sort of way) than he was, was when she _accidentally_ read an e-mail exchange between Kyle and his mum, concerning some family gathering that he absolutely _had to_ attend.

Lily approached him very suddenly a day after the exhausting discussion with Mrs Simmons, who didn't want to hear anything about uni schedules and homework, and said she would love to accompany Kyle to the celebration – without him telling her about it, let alone inviting her – and that it was high time he introduced her to his family anyway.

They had been together for less than two months.

 

When Kyle asked her how the hell she even knew about the party, Lily told him – like it was the only logical explanation – that his phone had been lying on his desk for all the world to see, and she had simply wanted to check the time, accidentally opening the conversation instead.

And Kyle believed her.

 

So he agreed to let her come. What was the worst that could happen? That it didn't work out between them and they would break up, resulting in him having to listen to his parents go “Oh, Kyle, what a shame, she was _so_ nice!” for a short while? Nothing he hadn't been through before.

 

It went better than expected, actually. Lily seemed to get along with his family well enough to justify her coming, even though his mother later not-so-subtly hinted that she just _knew_ the girl wasn't _it_ (a comment that Kyle chose to ignore, seeing as his mother had said this about every single girlfriend he had brought home ever since he started dating).

 

Kyle forgot about the whole story fairly quickly and everything went back to normal until Lily turned up at their English Literature class in his favourite navy blue hoodie that he had been searching frantically for a good few days. He had definitely not given it to her.

At first, he simply felt annoyed that she would take his clothes without asking – he would like to know their whereabouts, thank you very much.

 

It was only later that day, back in his room and after calmly but determinedly asking his sulking girlfriend to hand over the hoodie, that he realised they had only been in his room once in the past week, preferring Lily's dorm as her roommate seemed to spend a large proportion of her life in the library, and that one time they had been together every second, busy making a mess of the sheets. There was no way she could have taken the hoodie without him noticing.

 

So, what? Had she _broken_ into his room to snitch the hoodie?

 

Kyle decided to talk to Will about the matter, and after confirming that he had neither let Lily into their room in his absence nor given her any of Kyle's clothes, his good friend shrugged and said with a dismissive wave of the hand: “Let her have it, mate. Looks better on her anyway.”

Okay, first of all – rude. And also, how was Will so casual about this? It was his room, too. And it was creepy.

 

In the end, Kyle decided not to dwell on it, and, to be fair, no additional clothes went missing and Lily seemed to be making an effort to make it up to her boyfriend.

 

But then, one rainy Saturday morning, while he was still in bed, watching Game of Thrones reruns on his new laptop and enjoying some stale cereal, he received a text from his ex-girlfriend Clara, who told him, quote unquote, _get that crazy bitch off my arse, she's bloody insane, Kyle._

 

He had no idea what on earth the girl was on about, so, seeing as they had been on good terms after deciding to end their relationship about a year prior, he decided to call her. Clara picked up right away and dived straight into a very heated rant about how _his lovely girlfriend_ had harassed her with an onslaught of text messages and phone calls, told her to delete Kyle's number and never talk to or even think about him again, or else she would be 'coming for her', whatever the bloody hell that meant.

 

Kyle apologised profusely to his (rightfully) pissed off friend and promised to talk to Lily; and after jumping out of bed in a flurry of sheets and cheerios, he got dressed in record time, texting his girlfriend and arranging to meet her as soon as possible.

 

Sitting awkwardly on Lily's perfectly made bed about an hour later, he wasn't quite sure how to approach the subject, so he kept a stony silence while she talked about some boy who had recently enrolled at university, some Damien or Daniel or so, who was surrounded by all these saucy rumours about him screwing some much older dude, and Kyle really couldn't care less.

 

When she took a deep breath, preparing for the inevitable continuation of her distastefully gossipy tirade, he jumped in and decided to stand his ground.

He told her that what she did was unacceptable and that he needed her to leave his ex alone, and they stumbled into an argument about how he didn't really need Clara's number anymore, about how he was damn well allowed to stay friends with his ex, and how Lily must have stolen the number from his phone, until she finally admitted that she had actually saved all his female contacts to her own device.

 

It went on for quite a while – and it wasn't pretty. Lily ended up throwing him out, tears pooling in her eyes and sobbing deeply, and they didn't talk to or even see each other for two days.

By this point, Kyle honestly considered breaking up with her, quick and easy, but then Lily came back to him, hands buried in the pockets of her ripped jeans and eyes downcast, looking like she hadn't slept at all since their ugly fight, and offered a heartfelt apology; and it sounded like she _genuinely_ understood that her previous behaviour was wrong and that it could never happen again. Kyle forgave her and they made up gloriously, and everything was alright again.

 

 _Until_ something else happened, some other ex contacted him with an incredulous _'what the actual fuck, Kyle'_ , Lily somehow sneaked into his room _again_ , tried to persuade his friends to tell her more about his family, and lastly invited herself to his parents' house to have tea with his dad, without Kyle, looking through old photo albums, _without Kyle_.

And his dad, in his everlasting enthusiasm and kindness and gullibility, led her into the attic and let her first marvel at and finally actually _try on_ his mum's wedding dress; and when Lily sent him photos of herself in the beautiful gown, Kyle snapped and told her via text that they were over, done with, finished.

 

Yes, he was aware that it wasn't the right way to break up with her or anyone for that matter, and he did regret the way he had handled the situation, but the girl was genuinely making him uncomfortable with her over-protectiveness and her jealousy and her seemingly _planning their future_ , and he needed her to go away, the sooner the better, so he could go back to the way things had been before they started making out at some random guy's shitty party.

 

But Lily didn't give up as easily as Kyle had hoped, and two months, about a hundred text messages _per day_ , tons of handwritten letters and notes, and the occasional photograph left under his pillow later, Kyle, fed up with the general feeling of heightened alertness, anxiety and unease he was now constantly faced with, found himself desperate enough to ask his vague acquaintance Ralph Pelleymounter for help, after having told Lily in yet another heated confrontation that he was actually _really fucking gay_ and currently in a committed relationship with a man.

Why his brain had taken this path of all the paths it was at absolute liberty to choose from, was a mystery to him.

 

Kyle didn't know the other man very well. They had only met at the occasional party, some random club, had downed a beer or two at some godawful gig. Kyle dimly remembered giving him his coursework once and thereby apparently 'saving his ass'.

 

After Will had recovered from the initial hysterical laughing fit caused by Kyle's panic upon realising that he had actually gone and told his ex he was _gay_ , the older man told him that he needed to get himself a fake boyfriend asap, and after vehemently objecting the idea that Will himself could surely sacrifice his honour (“I have a _girlfriend_ , you wanker!”), had made him go through his contacts one by one, to see if any of his friends would be up to the task.

When they came back empty-handed, Will acted up as Kyle's saviour by letting him in on a big secret.

“I think Ralph has a roomie.”

Which, yeah, didn't everyone? Thanks for the contribution. The offhand comment did, however, spark a hazy idea in the younger man, something he couldn't quite place.

 

Kyle didn't know Ralph's roommate, didn't even know the guy's name, but he had a vague feeling like he had seen the man hang out with someone on campus before, and without really having a clear image in his head, a flash of crazy hair, glasses and Converse passed before his eyes, and he decided to talk to Ralph, to test the waters without diving straight in. What was the worst that could happen after all the shit that had already gone down?

 

And _nothing_ bad happened. The opposite, actually, Ralph said his roommate was his best friend Dan who was lovely and gorgeous and, most importantly, single and gay (hurray), and Ralph was going to ask him if he would be willing to help Kyle out. And then Dan actually agreed to talk to him and they arranged a meeting and it all happened so fast that Kyle barely had time to mentally steel himself for the predictably awkward encounter.

 

So it came about that Kyle Simmons, eighteen years old and no idea what the fuck he was doing, found himself hurrying towards his and Will's shared dorm room, heart hammering in his chest and sweaty palms making him hyperconscious of how nervous he was. With numb fingers, he pulled his phone from his back pocket to check the time – it was 10:36 A.M., meaning he had just enough time to get back to the room and force Will to roll out of bed and make himself look presentable before Ralph and Dan came round.

 

He sped up, suddenly anxious to get the whole ordeal over and done with.

If Dan was really as nice as Ralph said, it should make things a lot less embarrassing than they necessarily had to be. But if Ralph had been exaggerating, it was going to be one hell of a long day, and Kyle really wasn't looking forward to welcoming even more madness into his life.

He sighed, walking purposefully down the poorly lit corridor, and tried very hard not to overthink the strangely comical situation.

 

And obviously he didn't know this at the time – but Kyle was about to meet the love of his fucking life.

 


	5. I'm not denying he's nice!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter that has a sort of introductory feel to it, meaning that after this, there'll be one POV per chapter (I hope).  
> So, to wrap this part up in my head, there's three POVs in this one. It's also a bit more light-hearted than the others, but not in an annoying way (I hope).  
> Thanks for reading, and to everyone who's left kudos and comments - I love you. <3

“Ralph.”

 

“That's me.”

 

“I … don't wanna do it after all.”

 

Ralph closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe and focus on the little voice inside his head, cautioning him to remain patient in the face of his best friend's touchy moods.

“Dan, come on. You can't deny that he's nice.”

 

“I'm _not_ denying he's nice, that's the fucking problem!”

 

“You've lost me.”

 

Dan groaned and ran a hand through his messy hair in an all but overwrought manner.

“Look, if I fuck this up or the whole thing _somehow_ goes to shit … I don't wanna have to watch this guy quit, okay? _Because_ he's nice.”

 

“Oh my God, Dan. Will you _say his name_ already!”

Ralph pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against ever since their profuse apologies to the resident of the room they had conferred in had fallen on deaf ears, prompting the stranger to throw them out rather unceremoniously.

“You're acting like one of those people who say you shouldn't name things, cause you'll get attached to them!”

 

Ralph was wearily aware of Dan's timidness when it came to getting acquainted with people. When he had introduced him to his good mate Charlie, he could tell instantly that the two, as well as having quite a few mutual interests, also seemed to have chemistry in person. Dan readily got in tune with Charlie and the quiet, blissful vibe that surrounded him, and still, it had taken him _weeks_ to agree to join his best friend in meeting up with the boy without Ralph having to spend an obscene mass of energy on persuading him.

That was _months_ ago and even though Dan enjoyed hanging out with the gentle optimist, he still hadn't taken him up on the offer to have a drink at the small café where he worked as a barista – an invitation he had extended to the reserved boy on the day of their first encounter.

Despite his intense love affair with the caffeinated drink, Dan remained unenthusiastic when faced with the possibility of having to interact with real people beyond the welcome confines of their dorm.

 

Ralph could foresee Dan repeating this behaviour pattern with Kyle, sensed how he was going to try to avoid being alone with the other man under any circumstances. Yet he could also tell that his best friend _liked_ the younger boy, something that didn't happen very much – especially not after a first meeting – and he would be damned if he didn't try his hardest to gently push his friend in the right direction.

Dan could do with a friend. He deserved a friend.

 

The older man sighed again and rubbed his chest distractedly. _Real talk._

“Look. I think Kyle likes you. And I think the feeling's mutual. I _also_ think it would be a good idea for you to get to know each other and talk the whole thing through without me lurking behind your back. Kyle already thinks we're either weird or secretly married, cause I won't let you walk two steps away from me without following close behind.” He paused. “Is it weird that, in my head, that's the equivalent of being married?”

 

Dan remained silent and started chewing on the inside of his cheek.

 

“Danny, I really feel like you two could be friends! And yeah, maybe this whole _pretend_ _boyfriend_ thing is gonna make striking up a friendship a tad difficult, but come on, at least give it a _try_.”

Ralph shot Dan a pleading look and stretched his hand out towards him, and the other clasped it hesitantly, intertwining their cold fingers.

 

“You'll be fine. It's just coffee. In a public place.” Ralph smiled encouragingly. “And if anything happens or you're super uncomfortable, just text me and I'll come and save you and think of an excuse why you have to leave, to make you seem like less of an arsehole.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes and punched Ralph's arm lightly, but he couldn't hide the small smile appearing on his face.

“Fine,” he mumbled and Ralph grinned as he briefly squeezed his friend's fingers.

 

“You won't regret it,” he tried to assure him and prayed wordlessly that he wasn't entirely wrong in his limited evaluation of Kyle's personality.

 

Hoping to exchange a few explanatory words with Kyle, Ralph sent Dan off to get his wallet, and a mere thirty seconds after his best friend had scuffled out of sight, Ralph could see Kyle's lanky form approaching down the frigid corridor, a joyful skip in his step, the heart-warming grin disappearing off his face rather quickly, when he realised that something, or rather _someone_ , was missing.

 

Kyle slowed his step as he hesitantly closed the remaining distance between them, the defeated slump in his shoulders making him look much smaller than his impressive height.

“I … did I screw up?” he asked and looked at Ralph with concern in his warm eyes.

 

Ralph grinned.

“Nah, all good. He's just getting his wallet,” he said with a vague wave of the hand and watched with interest as Kyle's face changed from relief to confusion in a matter of seconds.

 

“He doesn't think I'm gonna let him pay for his drink, does he?” he inquired with a raised eyebrow and Ralph laughed out loud.

 

“I can guarantee you that he does.”

He took a deep breath before Kyle had a chance to reply.

“Listen, about Dan. Give him a chance to … unfold, yeah?”

Kyle furrowed his brow.

“I mean,” Ralph sighed, struggling to explain a situation that, after years and years of being in close proximity to the boy, he was now familiar with, whilst avoiding anything that Dan wouldn't want him to say.

“Dan is, he's – he needs time. It takes him a minute to get used to people and I just … whenever he's in an uncomfortable situation, he pretends he's not interested. He thinks coming across as unapproachable will save him from having to actually communicate.”

 

Kyle blinked. “Didn't know you were a hobby psychologist.”

 

“I'm not, and I'm not trying to be over-protective or anything, I just want you to understand that if he seems _cold_ , it's because he can't get over that damn wall he's built up between himself and … well, everything else, sort of. So _please_ , just give him a chance to warm up to you.”

 

Kyle seemed to absorb the seriousness of the request and nodded his head.

“I can't say I understand,” he said slowly, “but I'll try to.”

 

Ralph relaxed visibly. He had seen far too many people give up on _trying_ before they could find out what a great person Dan was.

“Thanks, mate. I just … you could totally become friends, you know? If you don't mind me saying. And if you … it can be frustrating, talking to him, cause he'll seem like he's miles away or doesn't give a fuck about what you have to say, but I promise, he's very attentive. He's a good listener, he just, uh, avoids eye contact.”

 

Ralph looked up, taking in the look of concern on the other's face, and he clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Don't worry,” he exclaimed, “I'm making it sound so much worse than it is. Plus, he's fucking _addicted_ to coffee. So, that's a start.”

 

Kyle grinned at that before his eyes fell on something behind the shorter man's back, and when Ralph turned around, he saw his best friend shuffling down the hallway excruciatingly slowly, hesitation dripping from his every movement – an easy exercise for anyone who enjoyed analysing body language.

Dan stopped next to Ralph and sneaked a look at Kyle through his eyelashes, and, deciding not to linger, Ralph hugged him tightly, shot him a last encouraging look, shouted a cheerful “Have fun, guys!” and very nearly ran off, eager to get away before Dan could change his mind, yet feeling strangely like a concerned mother leaving her son on his own to play with his new friend for the first time.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

_Don't make it weird, don't make it weird, don't make it weird._

It didn't matter how many times Dan repeated the phrase in his head – fifty times, a hundred, a thousand – he just knew. He _knew_ he was going to screw it up sooner or later, and seeing as he had already been left to his own devices for more than five minutes, it was only a matter of time. Shutting up usually reduced the chances of Dan making a fool of himself, meaning the conversation between him and Kyle was, in actuality, more of an awkward monologue.

 

The two had left the halls of residence behind and were walking down a narrow footpath leading through the park-like grounds that surrounded the large building, soaking in the dreariness of the grey autumn day. The gloomy clouds that covered the entirety of the boding firmament, seemed to be hanging dangerously close to the ground, and, after pouring down most of the night, the wet dirt squelched beneath their shoes.

This, it was one of the many things Dan liked about autumn – the feeling, the sight and unique smell of withering nature after heavy rainfall.

 

The impressive play of colours on the boastful foliage had started fading and thinning and finally, the leaves had begun to soar down towards the damp earth in an increasing number. By this point, they were covering a majority of the length of the path stretching out before them, and from the second they stepped outside, Dan feared he was going to slip and fall and embarrass himself.

 

The older boy was wrapped in a hoodie jacket (on top of a slightly smaller hoodie jacket – he didn't own any coats), and shivered predictably in the chilly autumn air – Kyle, however, was wearing a thick, warm-looking coat, a chequered one with a colour spectrum that resided somewhere between a muddy orange and pale red, that Dan was certain he would despise if he saw it in a shop window, but that somehow managed to look decent on Kyle.

Dan felt like the taller boy was the sort of enviable person who could pull off _any_ look, and felt vindicated with one glance at the man's current outfit: fingerless gloves, a beanie that seemed too small for his head, ripped blue jeans, and a pale yellow T-shirt displaying two jovial kittens, which was really … something else.

It was probably the air of confidence around Kyle that made it possible for him to wear outfits like these without looking like a serial killer who, on the run from the law, had stopped by some mouldy second-hand shop and stolen the first articles of clothing that would make him look less like himself, but ended up making him seem blatantly suspicious.

 

“Are you even listening to me?”

 

Dan looked up from the sickeningly adorable kittens who seemed to be staring him down threateningly from the yellow fabric and moved his gaze up to the amused face of the outfit's owner.

“Huh?”

He had been vaguely aware of Kyle rambling ever since Ralph had left them alone, but was too absorbed in his awkwardness to actually register and process any of the words that came tumbling out of the other's mouth.

 

Kyle stopped walking and looked at his companion curiously and Dan decided to pretend to be immensely interested in a random group of people that were walking past them, chattering happily among themselves.

 

“Ralph said you're a good listener,” Kyle stated and tried to get Dan to look at him by slowly shuffling into his line of sight, forcing Dan to shift his gaze onto a can of coke that was lying forgotten in the tall grass by the side of the footpath.

 

“Did he?”

He sniffled, before staring down at his muddy Converse and adding: “What else did he say about me?”

 

He knew Ralph would never tell anyone about any of Dan's issues or anything to do with the past few years, but his best friend had a _slight_ tendency to go overboard in his assessment of Dan's psyche.

 

When Kyle didn't respond, Dan looked up impatiently and immediately regretted doing so, when he was met with a wide, knowing smile. Dan blinked and tried to look away subtly, but Kyle simply chuckled.

“Just said to give you time,” he stated matter-of-factly and turned away to keep walking further down the path, hands clasped casually behind his back.

 

When Dan stumbled after him hastily, Kyle glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Cold?”

Dan shook his head and hunched his shoulders to brace himself against the chilliness, shivering violently when a relentless breeze hit them. He couldn't help but appreciate the comedic timing.

“Why you asking?” he huffed with a hint of sarcasm and cursed his voice for cracking noticeably.

 

Kyle nodded towards his hands. “Sweater paws.”

 

Staring down at his fingers, Dan could feel himself blush, and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“'m fine,” he mumbled and kept staring straight ahead.

 

“Good! Cause I'm not about to give you my coat,” Kyle exclaimed loudly, a wide grin slowly stretching across his face, before he sped up slightly when he saw the green light at the pedestrian crossing ahead of them.

 

Trying to keep pace, Dan mumbled “It's ugly anyway” to himself and jumped when Kyle spun around on the traffic island in the middle of the sparsely used road, laughing and pointing an accusing finger at him, whilst shouting for everyone in the immediate vicinity to hear: “I heard that!”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

It was a short yet somehow surprisingly lengthy walk to Kyle's favourite café – the _Déjà Brew_ (whoever had come up with the name probably thought they were a genius but were actually in desperate need of a slap in the face).

After Ralph's mildly awkward attempt at a heart-to-heart, he had tried his best to engage with Dan, tried to joke (which seemed to educe a strange sort of sniff from the older boy _at best_ ), and rambled non-stop in a desperate attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence.

 

Although, if he was honest with himself, he was glad that Ralph had talked to him. If he hadn't, Kyle would probably feel pretty clueless right now, and he would _definitely_ think he had done or said something to offend the other.

 

 _Give him time_ , he kept reminding himself instead, and though he couldn't say he noticed Dan warming up to him at all, he kept pretending that it was happening. Deep down underneath the many layers of varying shades of black. Maybe.

 

Luckily, the café wasn't far from campus and the prospect of possibly stirring _(haha)_ the topic towards something they, according to Ralph, both enjoyed, made him walk faster and keep up the positive attitude.

 

“So, here we are!” he exclaimed eventually, presenting the coffee shop with a wide, dramatic gesture, and Dan finally looked up from the floor, which he had been scrutinising whilst ignoring everything Kyle had said for the past five minutes.

 

Kyle glanced at the other expectantly and couldn't help but raise a single eyebrow when he saw Dan's wide eyes and mildly horrified expression.

 

“This is the shop?” he asked in a tiny voice and Kyle rested a hand on his hip and adjusted his maroon beanie.

 

“Well, yeah,” he stated, not quite knowing what else to say. “Something the matter?”

 

Dan fidgeted with his sleeve, eyes flicking nervously between the large wooden letters spelling out the ridiculous name and the taller man.

 

“Um,” he started, appearing to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. “My friend works here,” he admitted and stretched the sleeves of his multiple hoodies even further over his slender fingers.

 

Kyle blinked. “That's – oh my _God_ , your friend works at my favourite coffee shop?!”

 

Dan stared at him and nodded.

 

“Holy f- you think they'll give me a discount?!” he asked excitedly and was met with a hauntingly blank expression.

 

“Wh- I'm confused. Isn't this perfect? Now you don't have to be scared that I might eat you!”

Kyle grinned mischievously and pushed the door to the coffee shop open enthusiastically, breathing in the familiar smell and warmth of the place.

 

 _Yes_ , he was willing to admit that the shop was slightly tacky, with its walls plastered in (not so) inspirational quotes and generic stock photos of white people in pale, boring clothes drinking coffee whilst laughing with their mouths scarily wide open.

It was situated somewhere in the middle on a scale between … a popular Seattle-based coffeehouse chain and that weird café in Central London that Kyle's cousin had invited him to, where the brewed drinks were served in large glass beakers that looked like they had been scavenged at the closure of a failed chem lab.

 

The _Déjà Brew_ was warm, generously illuminated by a vast number and variety of warm lights, and furnished with an assortment of comfortable chairs and sofas, whilst keeping the atmosphere cosy in a weirdly appealing mix of brown and mustard yellow. The staff were friendly and welcoming (not the type that seemed to try to become every customer's aggressively cheerful best friend), the prices were _bearable_ , and – most importantly – the coffee was genuinely enjoyable.

They also made a wicked Swedish cinnamon bun, that Kyle had made a habit of eating on a daily basis when he was dating Lily until his _mum_ of all people told him he was starting to look _squishy_. So he restrained himself and now only ate one every other day, and sod the consequences.

Not like he had a girlfriend to look good for anyway.

 

Kyle purposefully strode towards the large wooden counter and reciprocated the warm smile of the familiar barista behind it, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to be alone and turned around to spy Dan hesitantly slinking through the glass door, looking around the shop like a fawn expecting to be mauled by a bear at any second (Kyle couldn't help but smile at the surprisingly fitting comparison).

Walking quickly back towards the boy who appeared to be glued to the floor, he nodded in the direction of the barista who was watching them curiously. “That your friend?”

Dan shook his head.

 

Kyle shrugged. “Hm. Shame, she's cute. What you having?”

He pointed at the large menu displayed behind and above the counter.

 

“Um. I don't- I think … just black coffee?” Dan hesitantly pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

Kyle nodded, ignoring Dan's attempt at finding the correct number of coins in the battered leather pouch, and walked back towards the waiting barista.

 

He made quick work of ordering their drinks and two cinnamon buns (every day was cheat day for Kyle Simmons), before walking towards a small table in a semi-secluded corner of the large, mostly empty space, balancing the delicious pastries on a small tray.

He only about managed to set it down on the table, when Dan appeared next to him, seemingly materialising out of thin air, with his wallet still in his hand, and asked, almost pressingly: “What do I owe you?”

 

Kyle looked up, met Dan's eyes and said with conviction: “You owe me nothing,” adding after a small pause, “Wow, that sounded _so_ dramatic, I should be an actor.”

To Kyle's surprise, this drew a small huff from Dan that _could_ _be_ interpreted as an attempted laugh, and Kyle cheered inwardly at the prospect of possibly _making some progress_ , before sinking into one of the cushioned chairs with a contented sigh.

 

Dan slowly sat down across from him and scanned their surroundings sheepishly, before meeting the other's gaze for the first time since they had talked in the dorm room earlier, and Kyle mentally kicked himself for only noticing now, in the light-flooded space, how ridiculously blue his eyes were.

 


	6. I have to make sure you're okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it takes me so long to write these!  
> Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot to me <3

_Two years ago_

 

 

“He's nearly _twice your age_ , Daniel!”

 

Dan had never seen his dad this frantic.

Mr Smith was a peaceable man who sought harmony and calmness even in distressing situations, but at this moment he was _furious_ , and it wasn't solely incredulity that broke out of him like a tidal wave, it was denial and worry wrapped around a heavy bundle of _disappointment_.

And though Dan had suspected that this was how his dad was going to react to him having a much older partner, it still hurt.

 

He was aware that age wasn't _just a number_. But Dan was eighteen, he was, by any definition, an _adult_ and people had always said that he appeared and acted older than his age, so the situation really shouldn't be as big a deal as his father made it out to be.

Yet despite knowing he had done nothing wrong, Dan chose to remain silent as he watched Mr Smith stride up and down the small room, irately rubbing at the stubble on his cheek until the redness of the skin underneath shone noticeably through the dark hair. It made Dan's own skin feel uncomfortably itchy.

He dropped his gaze to his socked feet, eyes tripping over every little detail of the monotonous linoleum floor – an attempt at distracting himself far enough to be able to pretend that this nightmarish confrontation wasn't really happening.

 

“And why the hell did Dick know before me?” his dad burst out angrily, raking his fingers through his gradually greying hair and staring accusingly.

 

“Ralph told him.”

Admitting out loud that his best friend had given away his secret without warning (and told his _godfather_ of all people) stung more than Dan cared to admit.

He realised that Ralph was concerned. The older boy knew about Dan's _love affair_ , insisted that it was going to end in heartbreak, seeing as his boyfriend _still_ didn't want anyone to know about the relationship. And Dan was desperate to make Ralph understand that the man _loved_ him, but his words fell on deaf ears.

 

Maybe Dan _was_ gullible, swallowing the 'I need to explain it to a few people but I promise we'll be together soon' speech over and over, his sight clouded by the famous rose-coloured glasses, eagerly waiting for the day he was finally _openly_ going to walk hand in hand with his lover. Ralph, on the other hand, was certainly being hardheaded, refused to acknowledge the sincerity of his friend's emotions, dismissed them as _confusion_ – and then, on top of everything else, went and fucked Dan over by letting the cat out of the bag.

 

“Ralph told him,” Mr Smith repeated, hands on his hips and shaking his head.

 

Dan raised his eyes, blinking at his dad from where he was sat at the kitchen table, feeling irritatingly like a child, scolded for being caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

But he _wasn't a child_ and he was sick of his dad treating him like one. He was an adult for fuck's sake, he understood consent and, well, _love_.

 

His dad's eyes softened when he saw the hesitancy and mistrust in his son's eyes. He kneeled down in front of him and placed his hands on Dan's thighs, rubbing gentle patterns into the torn fabric of his blue jeans.

 

“Dan … please, you need to tell me his name.”

 

The young man shook his head, eyes wide and alarmed.

“No, please, you can't-”

 

“I _have_ _to_ make sure you're okay. I _need_ to talk to him. It's not- you can't … what are you _thinking_ , Dan? What the hell do you think _he's_ thinking, getting involved with a teenager?”

 

Dan could feel the familiar sting of unshed tears in his eyes and when he spoke, he was painfully aware of just how weak and unsure his voice sounded.

“He loves me …”

 

His dad sighed and got up off the floor, dragging a hand down his face and letting his gaze drift out the window, eyes unfocused.

“How could you possibly know anything about love.”

 

Dan stared at him, heart beating fiercely in his chest. This was his _dad_ , the man who was supposed to protect and support him, not make him feel like he was doing something wrong and _repulsive_ when he was _in love_.

 

Who was he supposed to trust if not his father, if not his best friend?

 

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

 

_Now_

 

 

Dan felt _drained_.

It had been three days since he had first met Kyle, three days since their curiously conspicuous conference in some aimlessly selected dorm room, three days since they had spent nearly two hours drinking coffee and talking about themselves (or rather about Kyle), attempting to figure out how _all_ _this_ was going to work out.

 

Three days since Dan had last heard from the younger man.

 

He had tried to avoid indulging in his relentless self-criticism, had tried to listen to Ralph's encouragements (“He'll call eventually, don't worry!” and “No, he doesn't think you're weird!”), but it wasn't as if Dan didn't _know_ what he was like – and how others perceived him.

 

Most people didn't seem to want to acknowledge that he was _trying_. Dan wasn't stupid – he saw the disappointed downward curve of their mouths, the fatigue and indifference reaching their eyes when he yet again failed to inject himself into a conversation, and he knew he fooled himself into believing that, any minute now, he was going to say something more than 'uh', 'I see' and 'oh, okay'.

Every time, _every single time_ , he silently begged them to give him a chance, only to watch them turn away with an awkward shuffling of the feet and a stuttered excuse.

 

And each time, he berated himself for feeling crushed, for being hurt. Because what was he expecting?

_You're not trying hard enough._

 

He was hurt now too.

 

Dan was aware of the irony of being upset about Kyle not contacting him after spending so much energy on trying to wriggle himself out of having to meet up with the younger man in the first place.

But … Dan _liked_ hanging out with him – Kyle was winning and funny and good-looking, and he talked about every little trivial-seeming topic like it was the most intriguing thing in the world. It was captivating.

It was something that Dan hadn't realised he was craving until they met.

 

Becoming Kyle's friend sounded like a wonderful idea – if not for the minuscule controversy of having to pretend to be his boyfriend. Or maybe not, seeing as Kyle had in fact taken no action so far. Perhaps one meeting with Dan had been enough to put him off and he had already gone and found someone else to fake-date.

 

Dan sighed for the umpteenth time and stared at a particularly dusty-looking moth that was perched on the wall next to his bed, waiting for something to rouse it from its lethargy. Dan raised a hand and placed a single finger on the yellowing wallpaper next to the tiny animal, but it didn't care, didn't even move when Dan started sketching small patterns around it.

 

Ralph spun around in his armchair, wearing his pencil like a moustache and eyeing his friend's frame on the unmade bed. Dan looked back at him and was certain he could see the _I'm so done with this shit_ sparking from Ralph's eyes.

 

His best friend took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something, but Dan instantly cut him short.

 

“No.”

 

Ralph furrowed his brow. “You don't even know what I was gonna say.”

 

Rolling over, Dan drew the big, cushy cardigan he had stolen from Ralph's wardrobe tighter around his trembling shoulders. Damn this building and its entirely dysfunctional heating apparatus.

 

“I don't. But from now on, whenever you start talking, I'm gonna say no. Just in case it's another stupid favour.”

 

Ralph huffed and put his feet up on the edge of Dan's bed, an action that gained him an unenthusiastic scowl.

“The only thing you've had to do so far is let Kyle treat you to coffee and pastries. That's literally it,” Ralph stated matter-of-factly. “And as you're not telling me what exactly you talked about,” he raised an accusatory eyebrow, “I can't really say anything else about the matter.”

 

“Are you … pouting?”

 

Ralph snorted. “I'm really not. I just think it's weird that usually when you're forced to hang out with people, you won't shut up about how awful it's been afterwards, but when it comes to Kyle you're like a closed book. With ten locks on it.”

 

Dan sighed and started playing with the frayed seam of his T-shirt.

“There's not much to talk about. He loves cats, he studies music and plays the keys. He has two younger siblings, his mum's a nurse, his dad's a teacher. He likes Disney movies and gained ten pounds cause he ate too much Kanelbullar.”

 

Ralph furrowed his brow. “Kanel-what?”

 

“Swedish cinnamon buns,” Dan stated as if it was basic knowledge, and raised a lazy arm when Ralph threw a duck-shaped rubber at him, watching apathetically as it bounced off the bed and landed flat on the floor.

 

Ralph sighed. “Well, I mean that sounds good, I guess? Kyle seems like a really nice guy.”

 

“He _is_ a really nice guy,” Dan mumbled.

 

“So why exactly are you moping around then?”

 

Dan sat up and smoothed out the creased quilt beneath his fingertips.

“He still hasn't got back to me. Probably changed his mind cause I'm too much to be around,” he admitted. With a deep sigh, Ralph rose from his chair and plonked himself down on the bed next to Dan, resting his head on the younger boy's shoulder.

 

“Daaan.”

 

“Whaaat.”

 

“He'll call,” Ralph said and without seeing his face, Dan knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“It's only been three days. It's a really awkward situation, he probably needs some time, or a battle plan or whatever, before he can throw himself out there with his super cute new boyfriend.”

He elbowed Dan in the ribs and Dan pushed him off his shoulder and turned around to frown at his laughing friend.

 

The two went quiet and Dan watched as the tiny moth fluttered frenziedly towards a small speck of light on the ceiling, settling comfortably on the bright spot.

He thought back to three days ago, to sitting at the well-lit café with Kyle, the younger man in his cosy-looking coat-and-beanie combo, his excitement when he told Dan about his two cats (“You should come see them sometime, they're gonna love you!”) and his favourite movies.

Though he had joked about it earlier that day, Kyle had ended up offering Dan his coat when they finally walked back in the afternoon, both by then used to the glow of the coffee shop. Dan had declined quickly, even though he was shivering uncontrollably in the unrelenting wind, but the sentiment had made him feel a tiny bit warmer – or maybe it was the blush creeping up his neck that had raised his body temperature imperceptibly.

 

Ralph cleared his throat, shaking Dan from his reverie.

“Sooo,” he started, avoiding the other's gaze, and Dan heard a small voice in his head go _uh-oh_ before Ralph carried on.

“What did you actually tell him about _yourself_ then?” he asked, the series of implications scarcely concealed by the innocent words.

 

Dan looked at Ralph and saw the unease that was clearly etched on his face.

“I didn't tell him anything,” he all but huffed. “He was so happy talking about his little brother and sister and his awesome parents and their adorable cats. I didn't wanna kill the vibe.”

 

Ralph sighed and shook his head, but he didn't chastise Dan for his bitterness.

“And Kyle didn't ask anything?”

 

Dan stayed silent for a moment and felt his eyes grow unfocused.

“He asked if I had a boyfriend,” he admitted and tried to dodge the looming memories by quickly adding, “which is a stupid question really, cause I sure as hell wouldn't pretend to be _his_ boyfriend if I _had_ one.”

 

Ralph didn't laugh, didn't even smile.

“You should talk to him. You'd be surprised how many people are more understanding than you think.”

 

“I met the guy three days ago, Ralph. Do you really think talking about my mental health is an appropriate groundbreaker?”

 

Ralph sighed and heaved himself off the bed.

“I have a class to get to,” he said and stretched his arms over his head with a contented grunt before he started gathering his things from where they were scattered around the room.

 

Dan walked him to the door, shaking his head as he watched Ralph shove a massive textbook into his worn-through backpack inelegantly – it was dog-eared and had cola stains on the cover.

“What the hell are you doing, man? Those books are really fucking expensive.”

 

He opened the door, grinning at Ralph over his shoulder.

“Your mum would probably say-”

 

“Oh, hi!”

 

Dan nearly jumped out of his skin and yelped loudly when he turned around and found himself face to face with over six feet of bearded, tall, _grinning_ Kyle Simmons.

 

“You alright?” Kyle asked innocently and raised both eyebrows when he spotted Ralph standing behind Dan, laughing with a hand clasped over his mouth.

 

“Yep!” the man proclaimed blithely and kissed Dan's cheek before squeezing past him and Kyle and running off with a small wave and a “No time! See ya!”

 

There was a short awkward silence between the two boys as Dan tried to will his racing heart to slow down, before he finally said, “You nearly gave me a heart attack” and let out a deep breath.

 

Kyle smiled jovially, squinting his eyes and pointing behind Dan.

“Can I come in?”

 

The older boy resisted the urge to say 'I don't know, _can_ you?' and opened the door a tad wider, walking back into the room ahead of Kyle and trying to subtly straighten up his unmade bed as he went.

“It's, uh, a bit messy. Sorry.”

 

But Kyle just vaguely waved his hand in a gesture that could mean anything from _give the cheesecake another five minutes to cool down_ and _I really don't give a shit_ and looked around him with interest, curiosity maybe.

Dan watched him, quickly scanning the room himself to make sure he hadn't left anything embarrassing out in the open, at the same time as becoming aware of his own outfit in contrast to Kyle's.

 

Kyle looked nice. Black jeans, dark blue T-shirt, beanie and blindingly white trainers. He looked smart, with his hair swept back from his forehead, his nail polish a rich plum blue.

Dan himself, having lazed around all morning, was wearing knitted socks that Ralph's mum had made for him last Christmas, tracksuit bottoms, a once-white T-shirt and the old, oversized cardigan. His hair was a _state_ even for Dan-standards and he was wearing his oldest pair of glasses.

 

Kyle returned his gaze to Dan and looked him up and down swiftly, smirking.

“You're _so_ ready for a pyjama party.”

 

Dan shuffled his feet self-consciously and Kyle immediately added: “Doesn't mean you look bad” before clearing his throat.

“Speaking of party.”

 

_Oh no._

 

“There's this Halloween party in two days that I'm invited to.”

 

_Oh God._

 

“And I wanted to ask you if you wanna come.”

 

_Oh hell no._

 

“Um. Lily's gonna be there? And I think it would be a good opportunity to, you know, let her know. About, uh, _us_?”

 

_Oh my God._

 

Dan blinked.

 _I'd rather die_ , he thought and heard himself say “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”

 

_No, sounds very very bad!_

 

Kyle's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he groaned loudly, throwing his head back.

“Oh my God, thank you _so_ much! I thought it was gonna be super hard to convince you!”

He beamed at Dan and the older boy didn't have the heart to take it back, though he already regretted saying yes.

_Fucking déjà-vu._

 

Kyle slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tilted his head as he tried to make eye contact.

“Don't worry, I'll look after you. I have to make sure you're okay,” he said calmly and Dan, without intending to, immediately looked up and into the eyes of the other man. They were beautiful, almost like honey – the rich, bold, earthy variety –, dark as molasses and smooth as silk, and Dan noted a small shred, a fragment in Kyle's right eye that was marginally lighter than the rest.

He wanted to look away, only too aware that he was staring, but he couldn't stop marvelling at Kyle's lopsided smile and the warm tinge of his skin.

 

They gazed at each other for a moment and Kyle shook his head slightly.

 

“Your eyes are … really blue,” he mumbled and Dan's breath caught in his throat, when the familiar violin screech of Alfred Hitchcock's _Psycho_ suddenly resounded sharply, echoing off the walls of the sparsely furnished room and making them both flinch.

Dan frowned and shrugged apologetically as he clumsily fished his phone out of the back pocket of his tracksuit bottoms. It was his dad calling.

Kyle peered at the caller ID flashing across the screen (accompanied by a blurry and rather unflattering photograph of Mr Smith) and cleared his throat, glancing at Dan with a sort of playfulness in his eyes.

 

“I'll take that as my cue to fuck off, yeah? Uh, party starts Friday at seven, so I'll pick you up at half six?” he suggested and waited for Dan's nod of affirmation.

“Great!”

He moved towards Dan quickly and, catching the older boy off guard, hugged him tightly before grinning one last time and exiting with a hurried wave of the hand, leaving Dan standing dumbstruck and breathless in the middle of the room, ringing phone still clasped tightly in his cold hand.

 

He was definitely going to have to get used to the hugging.

 

He definitely _wanted_ to get used to it.

 


	7. Something Wicked (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the first part of the Halloween chapter (yes, I'm aware it's nowhere near October). The whole thing was too long for my taste to post in one go, so I'll probably upload part two tomorrow or so.  
> Hope this is okay and thanks for reading <3

_And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain_

 

_Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before_

 

 

_Edgar Allan Poe_

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kyle Simmons, a straight man? Possibly.

An utterly ignorant straight man? Absolutely not.

 

He could tell from the moment he first laid eyes on Dan that the boy was very pleasant to look at.

And he wasn't attractive in a dull, production-line white dude sort of way, either. There was something appealing about the curve of his mouth, certainly the shape of his eyes, the line of his jaw ... the remarkable height of his hair.

 

It was also at once evident how shy Dan was – or wary, perhaps. He was definitely introverted, but there was something else, something Kyle couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe he needed to get to know the older man to find out what it was.

Which made him realise that yes, he _was_ likely to get to know Dan better, seeing as the other had indeed _miraculously_ agreed to embody the role of his boyfriend for the foreseeable future, meaning that they would surely spend quite an extended amount of time in each other's company.

And honestly, Kyle could have done much worse for himself.

 

They had talked for a while (or _he_ had talked for a while, really) about how this perfect shitstorm had occurred in the first place, and Kyle had found his stress and agitation dissolve like plumes of smoke in a gentle breeze – a state which he felt he owed to the soothing presence of the boy with the crazy hairdo (God, how did it even _stay_ like that?).

 

There was something about Dan that made Kyle feel ... relieved. Peaceful. Which was, without a doubt, a quality he valued highly in other people, seeing as his own mind usually attempted to absorb and process all that was happening around him at a hundred miles a minute – and that was before his morning coffee. In Dan's presence, however, Kyle even forgot to bounce his leg like he normally did, something he only became aware of much later, back in his room that still reeked of cheap liquor.

 

(He also realised that he had babbled on and on about his cats for the best part of their stay at the _Déjà Brew_ and he could only hope that Dan didn't think he was some nutcase cat creep. Because he wasn't. At all. His lock screen absolutely did not display his cats engaging in a fight over a bagel.)

 

Rummaging through his wardrobe for something even remotely _spooky_ to wear, Kyle once again smiled as he thought back to his surprise, almost _shock_ , upon finding Dan readily agree to accompany him to his classmate's Halloween party the following day. The younger man had actually composed a motivational speech of sorts in his head that was supposed to shed some light on the pros opposing the many obvious cons in the matter, to help convince Dan that he absolutely _had to_ come.

 

But none of that had been necessary. Maybe he had misinterpreted Dan's timidity, his mostly withdrawn demeanour, after all – they were headed for an amazingly awkward situation, it would be normal for the older man, or, undoubtedly, anyone for that matter, to be sceptical and reserved at first, seeing as they barely knew each other and Kyle's request was neither ordinary nor – strictly speaking – _sane_.

 

In the hopes that it would help him get ahead of the situation without forcing his new acquaintance into an unpleasant game of _twenty questions_ , Kyle had even resorted to asking Will about Dan's friend who allegedly worked at the _Déjà Brew_ (a _Charlie Barnes_ if his roommate was to be believed), and had planned to speak with the young barista upon realising they went to the same music theory course – but to no avail. When Kyle deliberately lingered in order to _observe_ Charlie after a notably tiresome lecture, a forlorn attempt at possibly finding out a bit more about his own supposed boyfriend, he had started feeling like his subtle snooping had developed into full-on espionage and slunk off in shame.

 

The young man sighed and threw a lilac T-shirt and a pair of black jeans in the general direction of his bed. He spotted a silver sequin belt at the back of a hauntingly empty sock drawer that looked like it probably belonged to Will and held it in his hands, twirling it around his fingers thoughtfully and watching as the gleam of the dim ceiling lights bounced off the jewels and sent tiny white spots dancing across the doors of the wooden wardrobe.

Kyle threw the belt on top of the selected minimal-effort outfit and rubbed a hand over his growing beard.

Tomorrow was probably going to be a nightmare.

 

_Time to get bloody._

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

“I am _not_ wearing a costume.”

 

Ralph whined dramatically and let himself fall back on the impressive collection of flashy, flamboyant and feathery costumes piling up atop his bed like a mountain of manifested madness and threw Charlie a hard look.

 

“Don't look at me!” the younger man blurted and took a small step back, realising he was studying the scene from a vulnerable viewpoint between an unyielding Dan and an exasperated Ralph who were sitting stubbornly on their respective beds, arms crossed and death glares securely in place.

The one was trying to persuade the other to dress up (if minimally) for the approaching party but Dan remained hardheaded, even when his best friend paced into their room confidently, costumes of varying shapes and sizes spilling from his aching arms, clothes that he had been stashing at a friend's flat close to campus (exactly for what occasion Ralph was hoarding the dozens of costumes was a question the baffled men chose not to dwell on).

 

“It's not a costume, Dan, it's a fucking onesie.” He smiled sweetly. “Hey, you know who sucks?”

 

Dan rolled his eyes and Charlie bit down on the inside of his cheek to smother the bout of laughter that threatened to erupt from his belly at the childlike stubbornness that both men had become set on.

 

“People who turn up at costume parties without a costume,” Ralph concluded contentedly and arched his eyebrows as if to accentuate the severity of the statement.

“And you don't want Kyle to think you suck, do you? Except maybe his-”

 

“He does have a point,” Charlie butted in quickly, promptly earning himself a dirty look from Dan. “I mean it's not like he's asking you to wear _this_.”

He held up a black-and-red lingerie body and narrowed his eyes at Ralph.

“Why exactly do you have this?”

 

“None of your business,” Ralph grunted and snatched the gauzy garment out of Charlie's hands.

“The point is – Kyle invited you and you said yes without me having to poke your back with a pitchfork. So don't be a fucking drag now and ruin it for him, okay?”

 

“Drag ...” Charlie hummed thoughtfully, vacant gaze still tearing holes into the exquisite fabric of the underwear.

 

“Shut up, Charlie.”

Ralph looked at Dan and a knowing smirk slowly spread across his face.

“And also, you've been talking about that hug he gave you all day, so don't pretend you don't like him,” Ralph persisted and Charlie whistled lowly when Dan reddened under his best friend's scrutiny.

“So?”

 

Dan groaned and hid his face in his hands.

“I hate you.”

 

“You love me. Now put on the fucking onesie.”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Kyle had been ready to collect Dan twenty minutes early and had shuffled down the hallway in slow-motion, pausing sporadically to pick at the eggshell white paint flaking off the cold brick walls – a futile attempt at drawing out the time until _rendezvous_.

He didn't want to come across as overly eager.

 

In all fairness, he really _wasn't_ eager. These days, being in the same room as Lily was undeniably one of the most anxiety-boosting scenarios Kyle could think of. Most nights, he still returned to his dorm to find a letter or note of sorts had been slid through the crack under the door – her sole method of communication now that he had finally gotten around to changing his bloody phone number. He was almost waiting for the ruinous day when he was going to wake up to discover he had been immured overnight. It didn't seem far from likely – Lily was slowly but surely unveiling her inner _Montresor_.

 

Finally going to the limit of prolonging his admittedly short walk to Dan's room, Kyle had knocked on the door at precisely six twenty-three and, when Ralph had opened up with a broad smile, Kyle's eyes had immediately sought out Dan, who was perched on the edge of his unmade bed, doing up his shoelaces and wearing a _skeleton onesie_ of all things.

He looked adorable.

The outfit was kind of ridiculous, but he managed to pull it off. Seeing Dan in something else than a black hoodie was refreshing and Kyle not expecting him to dress up at all undoubtedly heightened his elation.

 

Kyle himself didn't have any costumes handily lying around, so in order to at least fake some level of disguise, he had cut big, ugly holes into his purple T-shirt (with a pair of plastic safety scissors that were shaped like a hippo and couldn't cut for shit) and drenched it as well as his skin in fake blood that he had bought for a pound in town and that smelled piercingly of chemicals. To top it off, he was wearing the silver sequin belt (hoping to look a tad more _glamorous_ , he supposed) – _et voilà_ , his Halloween not-costume was all done.

 

They had left shortly after, accompanied by Ralph's innocent-sounding, excessively cheery remarks (he wished them a _wonderful_ night) and had spent most of the brief stroll to their destination in utter silence.

As they were climbing a seemingly unending flight of stairs towards the entrance of Kyle's classmate's small flat that was situated about fifteen minutes from campus, the younger man subtly eyed Dan who looked progressively uncomfortable and, finally making a resolve, Kyle cleared his throat.

 

“Um. You know, in there. Is it- would it be okay if I introduced you as, like, my boyfriend?”

 

Dan blinked at him and even in the insufficient brightness of the gloomy staircase, Kyle could make out the blush on his pale cheeks.

“Uh, yeah, no. No, I mean, yeah. That's-” He took a deep breath. “That's okay.”

 

Kyle nodded solemnly.

“Fuck, man,” he said and shook his head, “it's the first time I'm seeing Lily since, ya know, I told her I was ...” He gestured back and forth between the two of them, hoping the message would come across effectively enough.

 

Dan hummed quietly and Kyle glanced at him and swallowed.

_Better get the formalities out of the way._

“Uh, so, we never actually talked about how to do this. _Play boyfriends_ I mean.”

_Which we probably should've._

“So, like, I obviously won't kiss you. And stuff. Touch you ... weirdly. In weird places. You know.” He could feel his skin flush. _Smooth._

“But I'll tell people we're together and that we ...” He jerked to a halt. “How did we meet?”

 

Dan shrugged, stopping two steps below Kyle and pretending to be greatly interested in the well-trodden granite flooring. Kyle didn't blame him.

“Mutual friends?” the older man suggested quietly and Kyle let out a breath and nodded his approval.

 

“Mutual friends. Ralph or, uh, Charlie.”

 

Dan looked up at him in surprise.

“How do you know Charlie?”

 

_Oh, shit._

Kyle laughed uneasily. “I don't, really. Just ... vague acquaintances and that.”

_I have not been snooping._

“Very vague.”

 

Dan furrowed his brow and Kyle inhaled sharply.

“I love you.”

 

Dan stared at him. “What?”

 

“Gotta practise saying it. Love you, baby. Babe ... honey? Which do you prefer?”

Dan said nothing.

“I think I like babes,” Kyle decided and tried a smile – a mistake, judging by the increasing redness of the other's neck.

 

Kyle chuckled nervously. “Also, I don't know how Lily's gonna react, so, uh, hope for the best, plan for the worst, eh?”

Dan still remained speechless.

“Obviously, if she starts throwing things, we'll leave. But maybe we're lucky and _she'll_ fuck off and we can enjoy the party, right?”

He bumped his shoulder into Dan's, nearly throwing him off balance.

“Sorry,” Kyle mumbled and rested a steadying hand on Dan's arm in what he hoped to be a gesture of reassurance.

“It'll be alright.”

 

They came to a halt in front of a plain door that exposed the evening's entertainment because it was pulsating slightly, only barely smothering the forte of the throbbing bass that resounded on the other side.

_Damn, these people go full-on early._

Kyle glanced at Dan and braced himself before he rapped his knuckles on the dark wood thrice in quick succession.

 

Almost as an afterthought, he turned towards Dan again.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asked in a rushed tone and blinked at Dan who looked like the world was collapsing around him right this second. He opened his mouth – probably to protest – when the door swung open and Kyle grabbed Dan's hand and smiled at his lively classmate.

 

“Hi, guys!” the girl exclaimed and Kyle didn't miss the way her gaze briefly flicked down to their intertwined fingers.

“Come on in!”

 

They followed her into the pocket-sized flat and, trying to ease the older boy's obviously heightened alertness, Kyle affectionately curled his fingers around Dan's in a gentle gesture that possibly came across as more intimate than he intended.

 

_Oh, well. Fuck it._

_Might as well be convincing._

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Seeing as the party had only just officially started, Kyle's mate was still going through the encouraged _don't break anything, please_ stage that usually crumbled exponentially with the average alcohol consumption. People were sitting and standing around the tiny, very tidy flat, hands clasped around emerald bottles and tall glasses for a lack of anything less awkward to do with them, chatting good-naturedly and subconsciously nodding their heads to the deep bass of the music.

In a clumsy attempt to make it look like the party was actually somewhat Halloween-inspired and not only a lazy excuse to get thoroughly shitfaced, various strings of pumpkin fairy lights, annoying artificial cobwebs, tiny ghost lanterns and black-and-orange balloons had been arranged around the rooms, making it difficult for anyone standing more than six feet tall to meander around without having to dodge the decorations. There seemed to be enough alcohol available to justify the steady stream of more or less masqueraded people entering and exiting the kitchen and the busy clicking of the resident's heels on the linoleum floor accompanied by the piercing tone of her reedy voice seemed to be a clear enough indication of her characteristics as a hostess.

 

And here he was, Dan Smith, twenty years of age, attending his first ever party that wasn't primarily frequented by grouchy relatives in their mid-forties, not quite knowing what to do with himself and feeling torturously self-conscious about his fingers entangled in Kyle's, sensing every inch of the other's skin as if their palms were glued together. He felt his hand twitch and become warmer and warmer and he hoped that Kyle wasn't aware of how wildly his heart was knocking into his ribs like a runner tumbling into every obstacle in a steeplechase.

 

Dan tried to ignore his subconscious hissing over and over that everyone in the room was staring at him, judging him, tried to inhale and exhale steadily, but his sharp breaths felt strained and he wondered how he had ever breathed before without the whole mechanism feeling as bizarre as it did now.

It was an overall strange and dizzying experience and he was already creating an escape plan in his head, trying to think of a reasonable enough excuse to rationalise his leaving as quickly as possible, when he felt Kyle's fingertips brushing over his knuckles softly and he instinctively took a deep, albeit shuddering breath until the tightness in his chest ebbed enough for him to take a cautious look around the room.

 

Dan didn't really recognise any of the guests, neither from his courses nor from campus, but then again he wasn't typically talked to in class and tried to dodge any sort of socialisation outside of it, so it wasn't unexpected that he was met with the curious but blank looks of a dozen or so strangers. He was only glad that people seemed to have forgotten that they had at one point been interested in him.

 

Kyle, on the other hand, appeared to be at least superficially familiar with most of them, waved his hand or called out to them over the music and seemed, if Dan wasn't completely misguided, surprisingly comfortable with their hands clasped together – especially considering his apparent popularity.

Fair enough, it had been Kyle's idea to go to these drastic measures after all, so maybe it _should_ be easy for the younger man to pretend, but Dan still found it overwhelming to imagine that someone wouldn't mind holding his hand like this, deliberately _making_ people believe they were together.

In love.

It seemed almost impossible.

 

Appearing in a whirl of green textiles and luscious fragrance, a young auburn-haired girl pounced on Kyle and embraced him enthusiastically, shining with happiness and immediately babbling noisily. Struggling to take everything in as quickly as it was taking place around him, Dan didn't quite catch what she said and could only shrug apologetically when she unmistakably addressed him, her voice drowned out by the current remix of some savagely slaughtered 80s pop classic that was thundering through the shitty speakers in a corner of the humming room. The electronic beats ceased abruptly and made way for another tune of the same kind, the rather subdued intro allowing the three to talk without having to yell their throats raw.

 

“I said you're even cuter than Kyle told me!” the woman declared loudly and pursed her mouth, looking him up and down, a smile finally tugging up the corners of her painted lips. Dan could hear the blood rushing through his ears and momentarily wondered if he was going to pass out.

 

“Shh,” Kyle whispered, elbowing her hard in the side, “don't feed his ego!” and they both giggled like children.

 

Dan chose to remain silent, not quite knowing what to say and reluctant to interfere with the clear familiarity between the two. The girl looked at him and smiled kindly.

“I'm Evie,” she said, leaning into his space as the music ascended to its former glory, and held her hand out to him. “It's nice to meet you.”

Her brown eyes glinted and the hoops on her pierced ears clinked blissfully when she shook his hand with vigour.

 

“You too,” Dan replied quietly and tried a small smile.

 

“So, you making it _official_ today, huh?” she said, flicked her wide eyes between them and discretely straightened her green-and-black witch skirt, smoothing out the creases.

 

Dan glanced at Kyle who snapped his fingers. “Oh, she knows. Got the full-on crazy ex treatment,” he sighed and smiled at her fondly. “Stuck around though. She's a great friend.”

 

“Aw, Kylie!” Evie called out and threw an arm around the tall man's waist. “Isn't he the sweetest?”

 

Smiling moderately, Dan let his eyes wander around the room once more, taking in the expanding stages of tipsiness, the varying levels of time and effort people appeared to have invested in the making of their costumes and the elaborate face paint on more or less anyone who wasn't wearing a mask, whilst listening with half an ear to Evie's continuous chatter, when his eyes met _hers_ across the room.

He instantly knew that it was her. Lily.

Her pink hair was fluttering around her face like a hairspray-fuelled cloud, her green eyes were framed by deep black eyeliner. She was wearing something that looked like an incredibly lazy attempt at a cat costume and her lips were pressed together in a grim line, only occasionally parting to take a nip of the beer in her hand. The way she stared at Dan like she wanted him dead was a small indication as to who exactly she was. That and the fact that her knuckles were so white from her tight grip on the bottle that Dan thought it was going to shatter any second. She smiled at him, smiled like she _knew_ , and Dan unintentionally tightened his grip on Kyle's hand.

 

The younger man furrowed his brow. “You okay?”

 

“That's _her_ by the balcony door, isn't it?”

 

Kyle looked over his shoulder and instantly went rigid.

 

Evie snorted. “Man, what could've possibly given her away? Not the literal laser beams shooting from her eyes, surely?” she joked but Dan was fully conscious of her rubbing Kyle's arm in support, obviously trying to soothe him. He swallowed.

 

“Kyle?”

 

The younger man tore his gaze away from the girl and looked at Dan with wide eyes.

“What?”

 

“Should we ... do you wanna leave?”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Evie tutted. “A Simmons doesn't run. You, Sir, need a drink.” And she hurried off into the bustling kitchen.

 

Dan stared at his dirty shoes and shuffled his feet awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say to make his friend feel better until Kyle squeezed his fingers lightly and Dan looked up to see him smile.

 

“It's alright. She's just, like, the terrifying stalker ghost of the past.”

He grinned and leaned further towards Dan, pressing their shoulders together and running his free hand down Dan's back; and if not for the fact that Dan knew it was solely for show and that Kyle's ex-girlfriend was standing right behind them, without a doubt watching their every move, he would have quite enjoyed the closeness.

 

Evie chose this moment to return, balancing three bottlenecks between her fingers.

“Here ya go, fellas! We're all gonna feel much better after these beauties.”

 

She held one beer out for Dan to take and he shook his head.

“I'm not really- I don't drink.”

 

“Come on, Danny boy, it'll help you loosen up, I promise!”

She leaned into his side, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Trust me, I've been there.” She winked and took a long swig from her beer.

 

Dan swallowed and hoped that Ralph hadn't hired anyone to keep an eye on him (he wouldn't put it past him) before taking a tentative sip of the bitter drink and pulling a face. Evie laughed and Kyle smiled sincerely.

“This is disgusting,” Dan mumbled and subtly turned towards the balcony – Lily was nowhere to be seen. He exhaled sharply and busied himself with watching a small group of cheering witches trying to beat each other at a surprisingly heated game of darts.

 

_At least she didn't throw anything._

 


	8. Something Wicked (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's part two. Hope it's somewhat enjoyable.  
> Also, thanks so much for 1000 hits (I mean WHAT??) <3

Kyle had to pour himself a lot of liquid courage to resist bolting after seeing Lily.

It was quite telling, he mused, that at this point, the woman didn't even have to say, much less _do_ anything for him to feel his anxiety skyrocket all the way to the bloody moon as soon as he caught a glimpse of her. He knew how obsessions played out – he had seen _Misery_. And he was, quite literally, attached to his legs, thank you very much.

 

As soon as he had indulged in a number of syrupy, multicoloured cocktails that Evie had gladly supplied him with, the haziness of Kyle's brain left him feeling a lot less _Oh, fuck_ and a lot more _Fuck it_ and in this state of mind his eyes wandered over a small congregation of ghouls and vampires decorating each other's faces with neon flowers and, leaning even further into Dan, he heard his own slurred voice choking out a rushed “Wanna paint my face?” that hopefully sounded less urgent out loud than it did in his head.

 

Kyle was glad he asked though. They were sitting on a small burgundy sofa in a quieter corner of the room, their legs one careless motion away from being tangled together, bodies simultaneously angled towards and away from each other in an attempt to maintain some level of polite distance whilst giving Dan _just_ enough room to paint Kyle's face.

 

The older man had an unprecedented, _intense_ look on him, scrutinising Kyle's features like they were the most precious thing he had ever come across – like he was restoring an exquisite portrait, afraid of damaging the fragile canvas, at the same time as marvelling at its vibrant colours, its delicate surface, the cracks in the paint, the lines on Kyle's skin.

 

Dan's fingertips were cold and hesitant, a welcoming clearness amidst the tropical, alcohol-foggy climate of the unfamiliar, buzzing space. His blue eyes sliced into Kyle's cheeks as he applied the thick paint, creamy layers of black and white making the younger man's face feel uncomfortably stiff. The brush was flat and damp on his skin, every stroke like a murmurous voice lulling him to sleep.

 

The other's company was yet again incredibly reassuring. Maybe it was the fact that Dan chose not to talk _just_ in order to fill the silence but for the first time in a long time, Kyle felt like he could hear himself think, could appreciate the calmness, just let it float around him and sweep him along in the comforting depth of its currents – instead of letting noises and voices amplify his moods and stimulate his constantly fluttering mind. For the first time since _all_ _this_ had started, he could consciously shut out any thoughts of his ex, could will himself to ignore the aching memories of pastel hair and softness and laughter and the bitterness about his misjudgement of her character.

 

And maybe it was because he was wasted, but Kyle felt like everything was coming together in that moment, sat opposite a guy he had met five days ago, letting him paint a big old skull on his face and looking at him as if he was the only person in the room.

Until he was.

Until there was no one else but Dan and his crazy hair and his soulful eyes and his serious face.

 

It felt strangely – _enticingly_ – intimate.

 

Blinking slowly, Kyle studied every detail of Dan's face. A strand of hair had fallen over his brow and seemed persistent enough to annoy the older man. He had brushed it away with the back of his hand about half a dozen times already, but it kept falling back into his eyes. Its stubbornness made Kyle chuckle and he raised his hand without thinking and very gently lifted the hair away, briefly carding his fingers through the rebellious curls. Kyle stopped when he noticed that Dan had frozen in place, the paintbrush trembling slightly between his fingers, and grinned.

 

“I'll get you a hair clip when it's my turn to paint you.”

 

Dan shook his head a little and continued drawing on Kyle's skin.

“You don't have to paint my face,” he said quietly and Kyle moved his hand to the other's knee and squeezed it encouragingly.

 

“I wanna. We can be matchy-matchy.”

 

Dan narrowed his eyes. “You're drunk.”

 

“So what? I'm drunk. You're quiet. Evie ...”

He looked over at his friend who was making out with a tall _wolfman_ in a busy corner of the flat, mask and fur and all.

“... never fails to surprise me.”

 

Dan laughed at that. Properly, out loud. It was the most uplifting sound Kyle's ears had been blessed with all day, surprisingly high-pitched and _genuine_ , and all his mind could victoriously supply was _You finally made him laugh, Kyle! Holy fuck, you made him laugh!_

 

Shaking his head, Dan sat back a little and roamed his eyes over Kyle's face, distractedly lifting his hand and wiping a thumb across the other's brow. Kyle's breath hitched in his throat.

 

When their eyes met, Dan blushed and withdrew his hand slowly, clearing his throat.

“There was some ... the- the paint was smudged and ...”

 

Kyle smirked. “Gimme that brush already. It's my turn.”

He shoved a hand into his jeans pocket and hummed triumphantly when he found a blue hair clip that had tiny snowflake sequins glued on it, a lonely leftover of an intense game of hairdressers his little sister had roped him into.

“Aha! Let's get that hair sorted then, shall we?”

 

“You haven't even looked at it,” Dan muttered, fidgeting visibly and inspecting the younger man's painted face apprehensively. Kyle's eyebrows shot up.

 

“Well, I mean it only took you, like, half an hour to finish, so it would actually be hilarious if it looked really shit.”

He bumped his knee into Dan's, making sure the other got the joke. “I bet it looks great though. We have to take a photo later.”

 

Though he wasn't the most gifted painter, Kyle really did try (it was a _skull_ after all, not the bloody _Birth of Venus_ ), but he was neither particularly patient by nature nor anywhere near sober enough to even draw a straight line, so Dan's face paint ended up being something that required quite an active imagination to be interpreted as a skull. The onesie served as a clue.

The older man seemed contented enough though and barely resisted when Kyle pried Evie away from her lupin liaison so she could take a picture of a smiling Dan sitting shyly next to a very obviously hammered Kyle who was beaming blissfully, one arm slung around the other man's shoulders and their painted cheeks pressed together tightly.

 

(Years later, Dan would _still_ be complaining about the photo that was preserved in a plain silver frame on their living room wall, would moan about how _embarrassing_ he looked in it and how much it seemed as if he'd _hated_ sitting on that sofa with Kyle – but the younger man knew what that night had brought to life between them, something he would forever be thankful for.)

 

Only wobbling slightly, Kyle slunk away into the stuffy kitchen and snagged two beers from the counter before making his way back through the throng of cackling people and flopping down in the still vacant space next to Dan who had apparently chosen to occupy himself with observing the other guests.

 

Kyle uncapped the revoltingly tepid bottles clumsily and passed one of them over to Dan.

“Here ya go, babes.”

He smirked at the other who stared at the bottle a bit helplessly.

“You're supposed to, ya know. Drink from it.” Kyle chuckled.

 

Dan furrowed his brow. “I'm not an idiot. I'm not supposed to drink.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It's a medication thing.”

 

The words were soft and Kyle wasn't sure if he had heard him right, but before he could inquire what Dan was talking about, the older boy took a minuscule sip from the beer after all, shoulders yet again shuddering in clear disgust, and Kyle couldn't help laughing.

 

Extricating himself from the swarm of swaying bodies, a gaunt blond in blood-speckled medical scrubs staggered across the room, looking around and making a beeline for the two boys sitting snugly on the shabby sofa as soon as he spotted Kyle.

 

“Oh for fuck- here we go again,” Kyle swore under his breath and didn't miss Dan giving him the side-eye, brows shooting up in question.

 

Kyle didn't have a chance to prepare him before the unwelcome guest stretched himself out next to the older boy and immediately threw an arm around Dan's shoulders, nudging Kyle off him in what could have been taken as an accident – but Kyle knew better.

The man examined the friends' matching face paint and sneered.

 

“What's up, bonehead?” he asked Kyle more loudly than necessary and drove his elbow into Dan's side – his cue to laugh. Dan didn't laugh, he looked more like he was going to be sick.

 

Kyle was used to this game by now. James Brooker had been in the majority of the same lectures as him since day one and the other boy had consistently had an odd sort of fixation with Kyle, trying to irritate him whenever he could. He was harmless enough, physically, but his persistence in trying to get to people could doubtlessly cause harm in the long run. Kyle himself had categorically ignored the boy's idiocy thus far but he really didn't want the _prick_ anywhere near Dan.

 

“James, you're not funny. What do you want?” Kyle said in a strained tone, sitting up straighter in order to give Dan more space to move away from his classmate.

 

“Nothing much, just seeing how my sad little panda is doing.” A sly smile spread across his face before he shifted his focus to Dan, watching him curiously, a strange wave of recognition passing over his features.

 

Warning bells immediately went off in Kyle's head.

“Hey, do you mind? I'm not sure I'm happy with you practically sitting on my boyfriend's lap.”

 

James gaped at him for a second before his face split into a nasty grin.

“No waaay! Ky-Ky, when did you turn gay?”

Nevertheless, he did move away from Dan minimally and the older man swiftly shuffled closer to Kyle, deflating visibly (something the younger man would definitely tuck away for future reference, when he was clearheaded enough to try to figure out whether Dan was just playing along or actually seeking comfort, because the two possibilities provoked very different emotions).

 

“Yesterday,” Kyle stated impassively and snaked his arm around Dan's waist protectively.

“Now, if that's all ...”

 

“Hold up.” James smirked. “Just gotta find out a bit more about my little man here,” he said and scrutinised Dan.

“What's your name then, kitten?”

 

Dan remained silent and Kyle clenched his teeth. “Dan,” he answered for his friend, hoping that the information would send the other off to bother someone else.

 

James hummed contemplatively and that disquieting tinge of recognition appeared on his features again, this time more distinct.

“Tell me one thing, Danny Boy,” he said, watching the man knowingly. “Isn't Kyle a bit young for your taste?”

 

Dan's eyes went wide and even beneath the imperfect paint, Kyle saw his face blanch so rapidly that he feared the older man was going to faint.

 

“Or shall we say a lot?” James reckoned and laughed.

 

“Right,” Kyle proclaimed firmly, “I think that's enough for one day, Jimbo. Now kindly fuck off, yes?”

 

James sniggered again and eyeballed Dan one last time before hoisting himself off the sofa, raising his hand in a mock salute and turning on his heel to saunter inelegantly towards the kitchen.

 

As soon as he disappeared out of sight, Kyle turned towards Dan who was staring after James. This certainly wasn't the confrontation he had been concerned about.

Taking in the other's ghostly complexion and tight shoulders, Kyle rubbed his arm lightly and Dan flinched and turned to stare at him.

“You okay?” Kyle asked softly and the older boy stared a bit more before seeming to regain some sense of composure and clearing his throat.

 

“Yeah! Yes, of course,” he stuttered and Kyle winced at the obviously feigned brightness. “I'm fine.”

 

The younger man sighed. “Don't listen to anything that twit has to say. More or less every word that comes out of his ugly mouth is complete bullshit. He has this weird obsession with trying to annoy me, I don't know why. But,” he made sure to make eye contact when he continued, “he has no idea what the fuck he's talking about. So just try to ignore him, yeah?”

 

Dan smiled a tiny, pale smile and nodded, exhaling slowly.

 

“Good,” Kyle acknowledged and beamed at Dan. “Now, exactly _how bad_ are you at darts?”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

It was sometime past two in the morning and Dan was hyperconscious of his teeth.

They felt weird.

 

His phone had died about half an hour ago and he genuinely expected Ralph to kick down the front door of the unfamiliar flat any minute now, seeing as Dan had promised to text to let him know whether he needed his best friend to pick him up.

 

Dan rubbed his eyes drowsily and huffed when his hand came back stained with grey.

Fuck, he forgot about the stupid face paint.

The paint that Kyle had put on him.

The paint that Kyle had put on him _very gently_.

 

Dan shook his head.

 

He wasn't typically among people this late (or early) and he did not like it. The room was distressingly stuffy, the soles of his shoes were sticky and he felt like he needed ten showers. The only two drinks he had had all night had left the most abhorrent aftertaste in his mouth and he would _kill_ for a chewing gum.

 

After an attempted game of darts (which proved to be challenging due to Kyle's tipsiness and Dan's lack of coordination) and a long conversation about their favourite horror films, Dan had spent a good twenty minutes watching his drunk friend swaying dreamily to the beats of whatever playlist was obviously being played on repeat, and he had found himself wanting to join him, for once having fun and forgetting about arsehole exes and guilt and _what others will think_. But he had been too afraid, especially after the near-disastrous encounter with _James_. Whether he was relieved that Kyle had shooed the man away before he could reveal anything or terrified of running into him again, Dan hadn't decided yet.

 

At least Lily had not disturbed them at all throughout the evening and had actually, amazingly, made no appearance whatsoever. Dan had no idea whether she had actually taken off or was just hiding very well from them, but he was glad that there was no horrid confrontation.

He was surprised that not many people seemed to care about Kyle turning up hand in hand with _some guy_. Only a small number of mostly female party-goers had even acknowledged the relationship at all and unexpectedly reacted with utter indifference when Kyle confirmed that they were indeed dating.

Maybe they could see the lie in the supposed couple's eyes. Or perhaps Dan had worried too much. Maybe all of this really wasn't a big deal and his intense anxiety about others' probable reactions had been unwarranted. Maybe he was going to get through this whole thing after all and not only emerge unscathed but with a new, very good friend at his side as well.

 

_Maybe._

 

Sighing deeply, Dan got up slowly, stumbling when his shoe clinked against an empty glass bottle that had been left on the floor. His eyes were watering and even with the detested contact lenses in place, his surroundings appeared as fuzzy as he supposed they would be if he had drunk as much as virtually everyone else in the flat.

To his left, Evie was yet again messing around with the mysterious werewolf person. To his right, a small group of people were having a go at some sort of drinking contest, but the progressive drunkenness of the participants left more alcohol trickling onto the damp floor than into their eager mouths (though their obvious failure didn't keep them from whooping obnoxiously).

 

Dan hugged himself tightly. He had no idea where Kyle was.

He needed some air.

 

Trying to be as inconspicuous and quick as possible, Dan made his way towards the door, trying not to brush against any of the drunkards around him, his ears sensitive to their ringing laughter and the blaring volume of the terrible music, when he felt a gentle tug at his elbow.

He turned around briskly and found himself face to face with Kyle who was watching him with concerned eyes, the previously sharp contrast of the black-and-white paint on his skin by now smudged into a greyish blur.

 

“You okay?” the taller man asked loudly and Dan nodded sleepily.

Kyle furrowed his brow, then glanced at his phone, still holding on to Dan's arm.

His eyes went wide.

 

“Ah, _shit_ ,” he mumbled and squeezed past Dan, leading him towards the entrance of the flat.

Cold air shortly mingled with the heat of the room when the door swung open with a horrible creaking sound before Kyle shut it firmly behind them, transforming the piercing beats into a muffled pulse.

The corridor was sombre and smelled faintly of booze, the air frigid and still, and Dan felt his muscles relax for the first time since they had left his dorm room, sensed the stress he had endured all night ebb away bit by bit.

Kyle turned around and regarded Dan meekly.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, voice tense.

“Fuck, I-” He ran a hand through his hair. “I swear I was gonna take you home _way_ sooner and now you're still- and you didn't even have a good time, did you? And James- oh my God, are you crying?!”

 

Dan shook his head and smiled, arm still hanging limply in Kyle's loose grip.

“'m just tired. My eyes are watering.”

 

Kyle let go of Dan but left his hands hovering inches away from the other's body, as if he was afraid the older boy was going to drop dead right in front of him.

“Do you want me to take you back now?” he asked ruefully and Dan nodded sedately.

 

It was an exceptionally cold night and Dan shivered brutally in his onesie now that they had left the pressing heat of the party behind. An upward glimpse granted him a thrilling view of the black velvet sky, littered with countless stars. He breathed consciously, feeling like he was exhaling the venom of the city and inhaling the transparency of the night, and tried to remember the names of the constellations stretching out far and high above them, terms that his dad had taught him a long time ago.

He stole a glance at Kyle who was staring straight ahead, jaw set in a determined line and eyes focused on the dark path. He looked uncharacteristically stoic, the cheeky smile and boldness faded from his features like ashes in the wind.

 

They arrived in the eerily silent corridor of Dan's dorm room about fifteen minutes later. Kyle hadn't tried to apologise again on the way back, had barely said anything at all, and Dan felt regretful – it wasn't Kyle's fault that he was brutally unsociable and that being in someone else's company for _hours_ exhausted him physically. On the contrary, Dan had probably just ruined Kyle's night, seeing as he was hardly going to walk all the way back to his classmate's flat.

 

At the door, Dan turned around and looked at Kyle briefly – a faint wisp of guilt crossed the other's face, rendered almost comical by the smeared paint on his skin.

 

“I'm sorry,” the younger man mumbled again and Dan shook his head with as much conviction as he could muster in his borderline-delirious state.

“It's alright, it was kinda cool. I think.”

Dan managed to smile shyly, feeling oddly detached from his own body. He stared at the floor, spinning his keys around his fingers.

 

“Can I- can we hang out tomorrow?” Kyle asked, smiling tentatively.

“I'd like to see you,” he added and Dan found himself nodding, heart thumping madly in his chest.

He had no idea how he had expected the night to end, but this wasn't it.

Not that he was complaining.

 

Kyle exhaled in relief. “Thank you. I- thanks so much for coming tonight. It was great to have you there. Uh, yeah. Good night.”

He waited for Dan to unlock the door before he moved towards him hesitantly, giving Dan enough time to back off if he wanted to. He rested a hand on Dan's shoulder and kissed his cheek softly. It was a small gesture, but the way his beard tickled Dan's skin, the way the smell of alcohol blended with the earthy fragrance of his cologne, the gentle pressure of his hand, the brief lingering of his lips – it made Dan feel warm inside and out.

 

Kyle smiled at him, the paint on Dan's cheek giving his lips a subtle white tinge, and squeezed his shoulder once more before stepping back slowly.

 

“Night,” Dan mumbled and let the door fall shut behind him with a smile.

 


	9. He's cute. Are you bringing him home for the weekend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: at the beginning of this chapter is a description of the stages of stalking, including mentions of verbal threats and physical violence.  
> This is a bit of a filler but will hopefully be a good enough transition to the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Seriously, every hit and every comment mean so much to me! <3

_The Stages of Stalking_

 

 

 _Stage One._ An unrelenting person, let's say _an ex_ for the sake of specifying this exemplary sequence of hypothetical events, continually tries to make contact with you even though you have told them in what you perceive as unambiguous words that there is _no_ chance you will ever get back together. You may or may not have been slightly angry but honestly, to say you're frustrated would be an understatement. At this point, you wouldn't feel like things are going to escalate – there is no reason to. The situation is irritating as hell, but come on, you _know_ them. They know you. Surely they will understand and back the fuck off.

 

 _Stage Two._ Okay, so maybe they won't give up as easily as you hoped. They _keep_ trying to get in touch and by now it's making you profoundly uncomfortable. Their persistence is starting to look slightly crazy, but they don't appear self-conscious about it at all – on the contrary, they don't seem to think there's anything wrong with their behaviour and even your friends suggest you're overreacting. Your ex might try to approach others – mates of yours or family members – to find out how you're getting on with life, now that they're (supposed to be) out of the picture.

 

 _Stage Three._ It's getting serious. Your stalker (and by now you can definitely call them that) starts making veiled threats, vague words like _“You'll be sorry”_ that bear no substance but are nevertheless alarming and not to be taken lightly. They might start showcasing physical aggression. Not outright violence but mildly intimidating actions like blocking your path or walking towards you resolutely as soon as they see you – things that make you feel like you should be careful not to say anything that could antagonise them.

 

 _Stage Four._ Your stalker starts making clear, concrete threats.

“ _If you don't take me back, I'll burn your house to the ground.”_

“ _If you don't come back to me, I'll destroy you.”_

Or _“If I can't have you, no one can.”_

 

 _Stage Five._ They show aggression or violence towards inanimate objects.

Victims of a stalking ex might come home to find their flat has been broken into and trashed beyond repair. They might set your clothes on fire, T-shirts they still have lying around that you were too apprehensive to collect after the messy breakup, jumpers they stole from your room to keep as a souvenir of your time together. Whatever it is they do, the aggression is clearly addressed to you and if this doesn't faze you, you're tougher than most.

 

_Stage Six._

Your stalker will showcase aggression or violence towards live creatures.

They might start off by screaming at you, attempting to hit you, kick you. Maybe they'll move on to being aggressive towards those around you, your friends or colleagues, classmates or family members who have finally caught up and are trying to defend, if necessary protect you. They might even try to steal your pet.

 

In many cases, the story will end with the stalker physically harming you.

 

Or someone you love.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Ralph was not quite certain where exactly the previous night's party was positioned on his personal disaster scale (from Dan and Kyle realising they were a perfect match to Dan and Kyle falling victim to attempted murder at the hands of _The Ex_ ), but Dan had let himself into their room around two-thirty A.M. with a thick coat of smeared grey staining his skin and a sluggish smile transforming his face into a picture of bliss, looking like he was going to pass out leaning against the door.

 

The older man (who had definitely _not_ stayed up to make sure his best friend got back safely) had helped Dan rub off the face paint in their tiny jail-esque bathroom and tucked him into bed after making him shed the onesie that smelled suspiciously as if someone had emptied the contents of a minibar onto it (a somewhat challenging task seeing as Dan's level of responsiveness had decreased to sporadic incoherent mumbling).

 

It was now twelve o'clock and Dan refused to get out of bed.

 

“Danny, come on,” Ralph complained, examining the abundance of blankets from his position on the cold floor next to his friend's cosy bed, “you cannot possibly be hungover, you don't drink. As in _you're not supposed to_.”

Ralph narrowed his eyes in suspicion and crossed his arms when a fluff of dark hair appeared between the folds of the blanket cocoon his friend had resorted to hiding in.

 

Dan huffed. “I had _one_ drink. One,” he emphasised, holding a single finger up for Ralph to inspect.

 

“You know you shouldn't-”

 

“Actually I only had _two_ ,” Dan cut him short, waving both his index and middle finger in front of his friend's face eagerly.

 

“That's ... worse?” Ralph moaned and captured the other's fingers in his hand, making Dan yelp and emerge fully.

“There he is! Almost forgot what you look like!”

 

Dan groaned. “Fuck off.”

 

Ralph shook his friend's fingers lightly.

“Sooo, when do I get to hear about last night?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows teasingly.

 

“Never,” Dan countered and let himself fall back against the cushions.

 

“Oh, come on. You were all smiley when you got back, _something_ good must've happened!”

 

“It was alright,” Dan grumbled, but Ralph could tell he was concealing a smile when he buried his face in one of the many pillows that made his bed look like it was littered with oversized marshmallows.

 

“And?”

 

“And what? And nothing. It was a party. You know better than me how that stuff works. People dress up and get drunk and make out with other people.”

 

“Who did you make out with then?”

 

Dan rolled his eyes. “Your mum.”

 

“Did you say hi?”

 

A short, unintentional bout of laughter bubbled out of Dan – a melody that never failed to send bursts of warmth and affection through Ralph's insides.

“For real though. Was Kyle's ex there? Did she say something? Come on, I'm thirsting for information! Feed me!”

He bumped his friend's shoulder in feigned despair and Dan nudged Ralph's head to the side, attacking the man's exposed neck with one freezing hand to put an end to his questioning. Ralph jumped and the younger man regarded his friend's scowl with an angelic smile before shaking his head.

 

“His ex _was_ there but she didn't say anything. Just kinda stared for a bit and then disappeared,” he disclosed and Ralph nodded and tried to picture the girl vanishing in a veil of smoke, her theatrical laugh resembling that of a TV villain marking an especially gut-wrenching cliffhanger.

“It was weird cause when I first saw her I was convinced she was gonna murder me,” Dan continued, tugging at a corner of his pillow, “but we didn't see her for the rest of the night.”

 

Ralph hummed. “That's good, right? Maybe she got the message right away.”

 

Dan shrugged.

 

“So what else? What did you get up to?”

 

“Painted each other's faces, talked about movies, played darts ... Kyle was quite drunk.”

 

“That doesn't sound too bad.”

 

Dan fidgeted with the thin blanket covering his legs. “Wasn't too bad.”

 

Ralph grinned to himself and let out a breath, poking at Dan's exposed stomach.

“Good. Go have a shower, yeah? You smell like my uncle Gary on New Year's.”

 

“I know your uncle Gary, he smells like sour milk.”

 

“So there you go. Do you wanna smell like a serial killer?”

 

Dan snorted and finally rolled out of bed. “I'll let you live longer than the rest of them.”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Kyle was not going to act like he hadn't been more humiliatingly hungover before (there was his mum's sister's thirty-fifth birthday party that sprang to mind, where Kyle had been convinced his aunt's partner was trying to obliterate him with the number of alcoholic concoctions she supplied) but Kyle had downed enough liquor the night before to anticipate the roaring headache that plagued him as soon as he pried his eyes open.

He looked distinctly like he was aspiring to be cast as an extra in _Night of the Living Dead_ , which – to be completely honest – was usually the case after a night of drinking (hair sticking out, waking up wearing his clothes inside out and feeling like something had found its untimely end inside his mouth).

 

But all things considered, Kyle didn't look quite as shit as he thought he would.

 

Regrettably, he did not recall much of the conversation he had had with Dan, pleasant as he knew it had been. In view of the occasion, they had exchanged their opinions on horror films for a good while (agreeing that the terrific thing about them was how entertaining they remained even in their shittiness) and Kyle had been impressed with Dan's knowledge of the subject.

There had been an incredibly irritating encounter with Kyle's _favourite person in the world_ (side note, the preceding statement has been formulated with the objective to convey sarcasm), but he was more than happy to pretend the confrontation with James Brooker had never happened. After all, Kyle was a fan of overlooking problems until they either disappeared over the horizon or leapt out of the shadows to stab him in the neck.

 

Unlocking his phone after an obscenely cold shower, he realised that he had missed a call from his mum, placed at six-fifteen in the morning, after – oh ... he had first rung her (three times) upon returning to his own room around four A.M., then sent her the snapshot of the two alleged lovebirds at the party – no comment added. In all fairness, it was a very sweet photo (albeit a tad out of focus) and if the two men had looked anything like they did in the picture throughout the night, Kyle was confident people would buy their love story.

 

Kyle sighed and decided to return his mum's call right away.

She picked up after _ten_ _rings_ , just when he was about to give up.

 

“Hello?” came the subdued sound of her voice on the other end of the line, drowned out by ear-splitting screeching in the background.

 

“Hi, mum!”

 

“Kyle, darling! How are you?”

 

“I'm fine. Sorry, mum, I hope I didn't wake you this morn-”

 

“Wait a second. Emma! Do _not_ touch that!”

 

“What's she doing?”

The escalating nature of the ten-year-old twins and their so-called _games_ was something Kyle was more than familiar with.

 

“You don't want to know.”

 

“Ground them.”

 

“Kyle!” his sister's voice resounded from the phone's speaker and Kyle narrowed his eyes.

 

“Am I on loud?”

 

“Yes,” his mother said between clenched teeth and sounding strangely far away. “I need my hands to clean up your cat's puke,” she muttered and Kyle laughed uneasily.

 

“Right, uh, was there anything in particular you wanted this morning?” he said, clumsily trying to steer the exchange away from any topic that could entice the woman's infamous wrath.

 

She hummed thoughtfully. “That's a really nice photo you sent me. He's cute. Are you bringing him home for the weekend?”

 

Kyle sniggered at her lack of surprise. “Uh, no. We went to that party yesterday, so I'm gonna stay here and try to cure my fucking hangover,” Kyle explained and was promptly met with a high-pitched giggle from his brother and a powerful “Language!” from his mum.

 

“Sorry.”

 

She sighed. “We would've loved to have you down for a couple days. It's been a while.”

 

“Next weekend, mum. I promise.”

 

She hummed her agreement and they fell quiet for a moment as Kyle closed his eyes and willed his head to stop throbbing. Mrs Simmons subtly cleared her throat and the young man immediately became vigilant.

_Here it comes._

 

“Who is he anyway?”

 

The curiosity in her voice was comically straightforward and Kyle rolled his eyes.

“A friend, mum.”

 

“Just a friend?” she pressed on and Kyle could hear his little brother chanting “La-di-daaa, Kyle's got a girlfrieeend!”

 

“Jonathan! Kyle does _not_ have a girlfriend.”

 

The young man smiled to himself.

 

“He has a _boyfriend_ ,” his mum corrected and Kyle chuckled tensely.

 

“Please do invite him over next weekend!” Mrs Simmons exclaimed and before he had a chance to explain the situation, a thundering crash rang out, closely followed by his brother's wailing.

 

“Oh, for the love of ...” His mum suddenly sounded a lot closer than before.

“I'm gonna have to hang up, sweetheart! Say hi to your, uh, your _friend_! I want to meet him, he looks very nice! Bye-bye, honey. Love you!”

 

And she hung up, leaving Kyle gaping at his phone in disbelief.

He snorted. What an absolute madhouse.

 

Getting ready took a tad longer than usual that morning, seeing as Kyle periodically felt the urge to sit down and ponder his life choices whilst whining repeatedly about his headache that just _wouldn't go away_ , but his hopes to be met with an outburst of sympathy from his best friend were smothered by Will's stony silence and the occasional affectionate “Shut the fuck up, Kyle”.

He did eventually manage to compose a decent-looking set of clothes and adjust his hair with half a tube of styling gel (before realising it was _Dan_ he was meeting and compared to the other man his hair would _always_ look tidy) and knocked on the door that already held a wonderful familiarity at about half twelve. It swung open, led by a tranquil breeze, and Kyle was greeted by a cheerful as ever Ralph (the younger man had sent him a text inquiring why Dan wasn't picking up his phone – as it turned out, the boy was notoriously neglectful of the device and Ralph considerably fed up with this if his rant about the frequency with which Dan checked his mobile was to be believed).

 

“Come in,” Ralph exclaimed and opened the door wide for Kyle to step inside.

 

“Cheers.” Kyle cast a quick glance around the room. “Dan not in?”

 

“He's in the shower. Just got up.”

 

“Just got up?” Kyle tilted his head slightly. “He's not hungover, is he? He didn't really drink last night, I watched him the whole time.”

 

Ralph smirked.

 

“I mean I kept an eye on him,” Kyle clarified and rubbed his wrist. “I'm not a creep, I swear.”

 

Ralph chuckled. “Hang on, I'll let him know you're here.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and resurfaced a moment later, waving his hands about in an ineffectual attempt to clear the small room of the hazy cloud that had escaped through the door.

 

“Bathing _inside_ a kettle wouldn't be as hot as taking a shower with him.”

 

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Are you two ... you know?” He laughed awkwardly. “Or is watching him shower more of a casual thing?” _Oh my God, Kyle._

“I mean-”

 

“We're close.”

 

Kyle swallowed hard. “Sorry, I didn't-”

 

“Shut up, will you?” Ralph smiled. “He's like the lame little brother I never wanted.”

 

“I heard that,” came Dan's muffled voice from the bathroom and Ralph sniggered.

 

“What sort of relationship would that be anyway? Seeing as _I_ was the one who suggested he should play your boyfriend in the first place.”

 

Kyle shrugged but before he could even think to voice a response his eyes flicked to the bathroom door and to Dan who appeared in a dramatic steam plume, wearing – yet again – tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie.

 

“That was quick. Do you shower in those?” Kyle asked, pointing at the familiar clothes and admiring how Dan's hair was even now standing up in numerous directions. A single longer strand kept swaying back and forth like an indecisive compass, making Kyle smile to himself. He felt like someone should write an essay on how to make sense of _The Astounding Gravity of Dan Smith's Hair_.

 

“Haha. Funny. You don't look quite as shit as I thought you would.”

 

Kyle grinned. “It's the good genes.”

 

“Levi's?” Ralph asked in mock seriousness and Kyle and Dan rolled their eyes in unison as if they were dealing with an annoying sibling. They glanced at each other and laughed.

 

“Right, so,” the older man interjected, clearing his throat in contrived indignation, a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

“You guys going on a _date_ or ...?”

 

Dan glowered at him before turning towards Kyle with a mixture of hope and doubt shining in his eyes and Kyle studied his pale features thoughtfully.

The older man didn't look his age. It was something Kyle had noted right from the beginning, so much so that he had felt the need to double-check that the man was actually twenty years old when he looked more like he was sixteen. Especially now, with a few wisps of dripping hair plastered to his smooth skin and his cheeks glowing from the heated bathroom, baggy clothes hanging off his slender frame like they had been passed down from an older brother, he looked so touchingly young and delicate that Kyle had to stop himself from going and enveloping him in a mothering embrace.

 

He hummed and tried a small, encouraging smile. “I mean, do you wanna? Hang out I mean?”

 

Dan nodded faintly, causing Kyle to break into an elated grin.

“Coffee? Lunch? What do you fancy?”

 

Dan shrugged one shoulder and started chewing on the inside of his cheek and Kyle could feel the proverbial lightbulb flashing in his head.

“Or do you wanna stay in and watch that horror film you told me I _had to_ see?”

 

Dan looked straight into his eyes then, the vibrant blue shimmering with excitement and he nodded his head firmly and smiled, showing off his dimples.

 

It hit Kyle like a dagger through the heart.

 

_Fuck. Mum will bloody adore him._

 

 

 

_/ /_

 

 

 

After shrugging on a second hoodie (it was a chilly day, alright) and his Converse that were inevitably falling to pieces (okay, he didn't have an excuse for those), Dan walked along beside Kyle who was striding down the vaguely recognisable hallway that Dan had last set foot in the day they had first come together. It seemed surreal that they had supposedly met less than a week ago when Dan felt like he had known Kyle so much longer than that.

 

The younger man was chatting on and on about his cats (again) and Dan chose to remain silent and simply smiled to himself, listening with a warm sensation in his chest to the other's tales of his beloved pets who seemed to be fascinated with infuriating his poor mother by plunging the house into chaos in a joint effort with his twin siblings whenever there was no one around to stop them.

 

Continuing his monologue without respite, Kyle suddenly grasped Dan's hand tightly in his own and the older man flinched and blinked at his friend in bewilderment – yet Kyle only muttered a quick _sorry_ under his breath, then carried on staring straight ahead as if he had not just brought Dan to the brink of a minor heart attack.

He was just about to ask Kyle what the hell was going on when Dan heard a sharp sound wafting through the corridor, a loud giggle he instantly identified as that of the girl who had organised last night's party. She skipped more than she walked down the corridor towards them, surrounded by a small number of her friends – people that Dan also believed he had seen around the flat, although they now looked a little worse for wear than they had in their striking costumes and glitter makeup.

 

His eyes flicked back to Kyle's face quickly, observing how the other was subtly eyeing the group of friends before shifting his hold on Dan's hand.

 

_Ah. The show must go on._

 

Although he tried to be as sly as Kyle and glanced in a different direction when they passed the group, pretending to examine the cracks in the washed-out walls with a small contemplative frown on his face, Dan was forced to look and smile at the others when Kyle addressed them gleefully. A few friendly platitudes about how _fun_ the party had been and a loud comparison of the varying degrees of hangover were exchanged among the classmates and Dan struggled not to look _too_ jittery when he shoved his free hand into the pocket of his hoodie, his fingers fiddling with the blue hair clip that Kyle had given him, twisting it around and around and hoping that nobody would talk to him.

 

He felt relief wash over him when he heard the friends bid each other farewell and exhaled sharply when Kyle pulled on his hand lightly, seeming equally anxious to continue on their way before a tentative “See ya, Dan” from the previous night's host made the older man look up once more. She smiled at him, lingering a few steps behind the others, hesitance visible in her eyes – but also genuine kindness. Dan smiled back and she waved at him before bounding after her friends with a spring in her step.

 

“I don't even know her name,” Dan mumbled, looking after the bubbly girl with the amiable personality and the shrill voice for a moment as he followed Kyle the last few steps to his room.

 

The younger man snorted discreetly and unlocked the door with his free hand. “Liv,” he said and pushed the door open. “She's actually quite nice. Just a bit ... _much_ sometimes, if you know what I mean.”

 

The door fell shut behind them with a dull thud and Dan glanced at Kyle, taking in the smile on his face. He hummed and swiftly looked around the room. It was much tidier than last time – much brighter as well with the shutters pulled open, letting the enthusiastic October sun flicker through the dirty glass and accentuate every dusty surface.

Kyle's roommate was sitting at the single desk in front of the open window, black-rimmed reading glasses in place and turning the pages of a small book.

 

“Are you reading the Bible?” Kyle asked, eyebrows creeping upwards.

 

“Yes,” Will answered without turning around and skipped a few pages.

 

When no further explanation followed, Kyle spoke again. “May I ask why you're reading the Bible?”

 

“Just trying to find out whether disobeying my parents qualifies me for the death penalty.”

 

Kyle snorted.

 

“Apparently it suffices to be stubborn for me to be stoned to death.”

 

Will finally turned around and curiosity swept across his features when he recognised Dan.

“Uh yeah, we got company,” Kyle said and Will peeked at Dan over the rim of his glasses, then squinted at their intertwined fingers. Kyle let go of Dan's hand abruptly.

 

“Oops,” he commented and Will grinned when his roommate shot Dan an apologetic look before he turned back to his book wordlessly.

 

As a mellow breeze waved in through the window and Dan shifted from one foot to the other, he noticed that he was standing on something.

A note on the floor.

 

“Ah, fuck. I'm sorry,” he mumbled and Kyle turned around as Dan picked up the small letter.

 

“Ugh. Here we go again.”

 

Dan eyed Kyle questioningly and the younger man shook his head and huffed.

“It's _her_. Ever since I changed my phone number she's been sliding these through. They're mostly just little love notes but it's weird. And annoying.”

 

“She clearly doesn't care about waste minimisation,” Will commented drily without tearing his eyes away from his reading material.

 

Kyle rolled his eyes and motioned for Dan to throw the letter in the bin.

 

“You're not gonna read it?”

 

Kyle scoffed. “Nah, thanks. You go ahead if you wanna. Tell me what you think. Tell me she's actually crazy and I'm not a _drama queen_ like Will says,” he said and cocked his eyebrows accusingly at the other man who kept on studiously ignoring them.

 

Dan swallowed around the sickening feeling creeping up into his throat and unfolded the paper warily, his desire to understand the situation more persistent than his anxiousness.

It was a page from a notebook, faint blue stripes crossing the crisp white. Lily's bold, curly handwriting sat snugly between the lines (not _on_ them; Dan wondered if there was some sort of psychological interpretation of that).

 

He read the short spout of emotions three times and shuffled his feet in unease as the words echoed in his head, feeling himself flush. It didn't take long before Kyle caught on to the prolonged silence and turned around, looking at him sceptically.

 

“Oh God, that bad?” he groaned and took the letter, scanning it quickly while Dan stared at the floor. When Kyle didn't say anything the older boy looked up shyly to see the younger one fixing his eyes on the small piece of paper, unmoving.

 

Dan approached him carefully and reached out to touch his arm but Kyle shied away from the contact and looked at Dan with an achingly obvious look of embarrassment.

 

“Um. Maybe you should go now. I, uh. I actually got an assignment to finish. I forgot, sorry.”

 

Dan stared at him for a moment, noting that Will had turned around in his chair to glare at his roommate, and feeling a familiar sensation of rejection spreading through his body. He nodded, turned around without another word and left, relying on his tired legs to carry him back to his own room one silent step after the other.

 


	10. Dear Ky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's Lily's letter. The next bit is a double chapter again which I'll hopefully be able to upload over the next couple days.  
> As always, thanks for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! And also - ten chapters, woohoo! <3

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Dear Ky_

 

 

 

_I'm sorry to have to say this but I'm really disappointed in you._

_You're not a great actor, babe. I know you're not interested in that guy, whoever he is._

_It's obvious he has a thing for you though and honestly, I feel kind of sorry for him._

_You shouldn't play with other people's feelings just to test me._

_Why are you doing this?? If you want proof of my love just SAY SO._

_I'm more than ready to prove myself in any way you want._

_Just don't hurt others because of me. It makes me feel bad._

 

 

 

_Love you to the moon and back_

 

_Lily ♥_

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. And the Wind Blows You Home (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first part, as promised. I hope it's alright.  
> Thanks to everyone who's reading this, it means a lot to me <3

_Thursday 6 th November_

 

 

 

Chucking two random sweatshirts and a pair of holey tracksuit bottoms on top of his wash bag, Kyle sighed for the umpteenth time – an act that promptly earned him a smack round the back of the head, carried out by his alleged best friend.

His weapon of choice: _The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde. Special Editions._

 

“Ow! What the fuck, Will!”

 

“I told you to stop moaning.”

 

“So you hit me?!”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Feeling profoundly betrayed, Kyle rubbed his throbbing head and turned back to his holdall, face twisted into a childlike pout as he shoved a negligible number of textbooks on musical analysis inside to equip himself for the improbable event that he was going to get any work done during his short stay at his childhood home.

He grabbed his phone (kept within arm's reach in a sort of hopeful sentiment) and swiped his thumb across the screen for what may well have been the hundredth time that morning. Yet again, he instantly dropped it back on the bedding with a discouraged exhale.

 

 

_You shouldn't play with other people's feelings just to test me._

 

 

It had been nearly _one week_ since Kyle had unkindly as well as entirely _needlessly_ rebuffed Dan, and he could still hear Lily's voice reverberating inside his skull like a damn broken record.

He hated it.

He hated that she had seen through the deception without batting an eye. He hated that she thought he was using Dan for his own benefit – and he loathed the fact that she wasn't wrong.

 

“Stop checking your phone, Kyle. You've ignored him all week.”

Will seemed to ponder for a moment. “He probably thinks you hate him, you know.”

 

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and mentally cursed himself.

 

“... which is slightly ironic seeing as he probably also thinks that _you_ think _he's_ in love with you,” his roommate continued with an almost indifferent shrug and turned his undivided attention back to his laptop, allowing the consistent arrhythmic clacking of his fingers on the keys to drown out the deafening silence that had been encompassing the room for hours.

 

Kyle hesitated. “I really like him, you know.”

 

As Will swung around in his chair once again, the younger man consciously kept his focus on the half-packed duffel, hands performing pointless actions – shifting his boxers from one side of the bag to the other and removing the toothbrush from its travel case just to slide it back inside – and face screwed up in mock concentration.

 

“Dan. I like him. I wanna be his friend. Only thing is, I fucked that up, didn't I – by ignoring him, I mean.”

 

Will nodded his head and hummed quietly. “Not necessarily. You could always, you know, _stop ignoring him_.”

 

“But he hasn't sent me another text since Tuesday!”

 

“Cause you're ignoring him!”

 

“Yeah but- she's right, isn't she?”

 

Will sighed. “Is your drama going to have an intermission soon?”

 

The younger man ran a hand through his hair, ignoring his friend's jocular side note. “I've already bothered him more than he should have to put up with and-”

 

“Kyle.”

 

“And I thought if I took a step back and let him-”

 

“Kyle.”

 

“ _What_.”

 

“You're gonna miss your train.”

 

Furrowing his brow, Kyle glanced at the hideous orange alarm clock on Will's bedside table.

“Oh, shit!”

He crammed his headphones into his backpack and hopped around the room hastily whilst putting on his trainers, finally shouting a cursory farewell before stumbling out into the hallway.

 

As Kyle pulled the door shut, the other's voice resounded one last time.

 

“Call him, you twat!”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Kyle had always known that he was adopted. It was like being able to tell people his address as soon as he went to primary school – he could not quite recall how and when he had memorised it but at some point, he just knew.

Mr and Mrs Simmons had never attempted to conceal from their son the fact that they were not his _biological_ parents, so Kyle had never had a reason to feel cheated or lied to in any way, never felt like he needed to _accept the situation in order to move on_ – even if some people appeared to desperately want him to believe that something about his familial situation was unacceptable, just so they could swoop down on him and assure him of the opposite in a strange, self-righteous and misplaced outburst of pity that they passed off as understanding.

 

They didn't understand.

 

It was correct that Kyle's parents had not conceived him but a parent was, above all, someone who nurtured, raised and supported a child and Mr and Mrs Simmons had done this and so much more. They loved him unconditionally, had taught him acceptance, forgiveness and respect, continuously showed him how to be open-minded and unprejudiced, and encouraged him to express his thoughts and feelings in any way that would bring him fulfilment. Why would Kyle want to force something so good, a thing so precious and protecting, into something cynical just because others insinuated that the circumstances of his birth and upbringing were _supposed to be_ tragic?

 

So that was that. Kyle appreciated that he was certainly lucky and that for many in his position, their background was a touchy subject; yet whilst knowing fair well that everyone's experiences were diverse and unique and some not nearly as positive as his, he had decided a long time ago that he was not going to let people attempt to convince him that there was something wrong with him anymore.

 

Kyle adored his family. He adored his parents and his topsy-turvy surprise twin siblings whose arrival nobody, certainly not the euphoric Mr and Mrs Simmons, had anticipated, and he adored his cats.

He loved going home.

 

It was difficult to remember these facts as he stood at the train station in his smallish hometown, close to an hour after his mum should have picked him up.

A grunt escaped the young man as he checked his phone, only to have the sad, devoid signal bars remind him yet again that the reception at the rundown station was essentially non-existent.

Dark, foreboding clouds were stewing in the murky sky and Kyle squinted at them in sneaking suspicion.

 

“I swear to God if you start pissing down on me now ...”

 

Being (demonstrably) the finest woman in all of England, Mrs Simmons chose to pull into the derelict car park the very second the first raindrops started sprinkling down and Kyle threw his duffel in the back of the anthracite car that was in dire need of a thorough wash and jumped in the passenger seat, greeting his mother with a peck on the cheek.

 

She smiled. “Hello, sweetheart.”

 

“Hi, mum. You took your time, eh?”

 

Mrs Simmons frowned as she manoeuvred the car out of the weed-infested space. “I'm sorry, honey. I was trying to straighten up the house but you know how it is. Tidying up around your brother and sister is like trying to shovel snow in an avalanche.”

 

Kyle sniggered but shook his head, shooting his mother an almost chastising glance. “I've told you a million times – you don't have to tidy up when I come home.”

 

She mumbled an unenthusiastic response and kept her focus on the road while her son busied himself with watching the heavy rain that was now spattering down freely, sending cold cascades down the car windows that cut sharply through the caked dirt. It was a short journey home and Kyle tried to mentally brace himself for the unavoidable interrogation from the perpetually curious matriarch.

He didn't have to wait long.

 

“So. Did you invite your friend over like I said?”

 

“Uh ... yeah. Sure did.”

 

“And what, he didn't want to come?” She seemed disappointed, if not offended.

 

Kyle sighed. “I'm sorry mum, I didn't actually ask. I, um. I forgot.”

 

“Ah. Well, please do remember next time, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

An ephemeral glimpse of Kyle's former primary school sent a nostalgic shiver crawling up his arms and he averted his gaze from the locked gates and smashed in windows of the relinquished complex and instead let his eyes cling to the trees by the road that were now balding briskly in the sharp wind.

 

“You know, I didn't catch his name.”

 

Kyle peered at his mum and cleared his throat.

“You didn't ask. It's Dan. Uh, Smith.”

 

“Dan Smith?” She furrowed her brow. “He doesn't look like a Dan Smith. More like a ...”

 

“Mum, whatever you're about to say is gonna be really cringy, so can you not?”

 

She chuckled. “So, _Dan_. Tell me about Dan.”

 

The young man exhaled loudly and tugged his sleeves down over his wrists (a gesture that was extraordinarily akin to the behaviour of the man they were talking about) as he tried to unearth the right words to describe the other boy.

“Uh ... he's a bit older than me, studies English Literature and Culture. He's nearly my height and has this crazy head of hair and _really_ blue eyes – the picture I sent you doesn't do them justice at all. And, yeah, I don't know where he's from. Or anything about his parents. But I think he's an only child. Um ...”

Kyle blinked. He had told the older man _a lot_ about his own life but didn't actually know much about Dan's. He could feel the unmistakable heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck and sunk further into the uncomfortable car seat. “I haven't known him that long.”

 

His mum smiled amusedly. “Honey, I'm sure these are all compelling facts but I'm more interested in _what kind_ of person he is. Tell me what you _like_ about him.”

 

Kyle stared out the window and watched the monotonous local backdrop slip away in the drizzly haze as they flew past the blurry rainbow colours of the playground where he had pushed his siblings on the roundabout until Jonathan was sick, past the small corner shop where he had bought two packs of Capri Sun on the way to his first girlfriend's house when she had (at long last) invited him over.

“He's ... he's really gentle. And warm.”

 

Silence.

 

“I mean, he's ... he's not like other people, as dull as that sounds. He's kinda quiet but in a very nice way and he has this aura that makes him seem- I don't know. Calm, I guess. And I think he's really intelligent. You can see it in his eyes and just the way he ... looks at you when you talk? _If_ he looks at you, that is. It doesn't make sense, I- I'm bad at describing people.”

 

“No no,” his mum said calmly, eyes fixed on the road and a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She switched the windscreen wipers on. “Go on, please.”

 

Her son sighed deeply and shook his head. “I'd rather not.”

 

Mrs Simmons nodded subtly. “I understand,” she stated and Kyle blinked at her.

“He's not like you, is he? You've always had a busy mouth,” she continued, chuckling to herself. “And while that's wonderful and hearing you talk so brightly about everything that crosses your mind brings a lot of joy to those around you, I've always found that you're the happiest around people whose demeanour is the very reverse of yours. Like Dan.”

As per usual, her observations were spot-on. Sometimes Kyle speculated whether his mother might be spying on him through concealed cameras in his clothes (which was why she insisted on doing his laundry whenever he came home even though he was perfectly capable of utilising the washing machine) or whether it really was a weird _mum thing_.

Mrs Simmons laughed and shook her head lightly. “Seems like opposites really do attract.”

 

Kyle huffed but let himself get carried away by her infectious smile.

“Mum, I don't fancy him, you know? We're just friends. If that.”

 

“Yeah? Repeat that statement in a couple months and we'll see how confident you feel about it then,” she said with a cheeky glint in her eyes as she pulled into the driveway.

Before Kyle could argue, he caught sight of one of his cats lounging patiently on the doormat, yawning contentedly as soon as he spotted the vehicle, and the boy's mind went completely blank.

 

“Oh my God,” he squealed and jumped out of the car quickly, approaching the slender feline with open arms.

“I missed you _so_ much!”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

It was sometime past eleven when cat number two finally decided to stop ignoring Kyle (hours after his short yet sweet reunion with the black-furred Zappa), hopping onto the sofa and marching into his line of sight with a confident stretch. The cream-coloured Peach hissed dangerously as soon as Kyle touched her but seemed to accept the boy's presence and settled down next to him, the tip of her fluffy tail twitching in accord with every unsuspected noise that echoed through the house.

 

Mrs Simmons had left for her night shift at the hospital a while ago and Emma and Jonathan were long in bed after spending _hours_ lazing about on the large, navy blue sofa in the family's living room, the youngest brother chatting breathlessly about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius while his sister, who was listening to her twin with a smile on her face, alternated between playing games with annoying sound effects on Kyle's phone and following the thin plot of some terrible sitcom that was playing on the boxlike television.

 

Burying one hand in Peach's silky fur, the other clutching his phone, Kyle stared thoughtfully into space. Was it too late to call Dan? What was he even going to say? What if Dan didn't accept his apology?

 

The young man sighed and let his head drop back against his grandmother's hand-knitted patchwork quilt. She had made the beautiful comforter for her first grandchild when Kyle was a baby and it adorned the living room ever since he had lamented that his friends were going to make fun of it. He regretted wanting to be rid of it now. It was soft and pastel pink and green and it smelled subtly of his favourite laundry detergent, a scent that always catapulted his senses straight home.

 

_Dan would probably think it's cute._

 

The thought crossed Kyle's mind with an aching pull and he closed his eyes. Will was (as usual) right, if he wanted to clear things up, Kyle was going to have to stop ignoring the older boy – and talking to Dan _soon_ was something he simultaneously yearned for and dreaded, seeing as the other was probably either pissed off or (much, much worse) genuinely _hurt_.

 

Utterly noiselessly, as was his custom, Mr Simmons slunk into the living room and turned off the long-ignored TV, stretching out next to his son with a big mug of hot chocolate, the luscious scent of which instantly tore Kyle's gaze away from the soft imperfections in the white ceiling paint he was scrutinising, instead coaxing him to observe the milky steam rising from the cup.

 

“Is that for me?”

 

“Hm, no,” his dad said lightly and moved as if to take a sip but broke under Kyle's incredulous stare and laughed. “Of course it's for you.”

 

Kyle accepted the sweet drink with a sighed thanks and took in the jolly print that had suffered visibly from countless runs in the dishwasher – without the sharp black of his beady eyes, Santa's face rather resembled that of an expressionless mannequin.

 

“Isn't it a bit early to bring out the Christmas stuff?” Kyle asked and sniffed at the mug before tasting the drink cautiously, savouring the smooth boldness of the dark liquid.

 

“First of all, it's never too early for Christmas, and secondly, the festive mugs are the most comforting.” Mr Simmons gave his son a knowing look and Kyle huffed.

 

“So, go on. Whatever it is, getting it off your chest will make you feel better. And tell me about this _Dan_ your mum kept going on about on the phone earlier.”

 

“She's not chatty at all, is she.”

 

His dad laughed. “Your mother is like a closed book to me, son.”

 

And so Kyle allowed himself to be persuaded into confiding in his dad. His parents already knew about the breakup but he had kept Lily's disquieting behaviour a secret – primarily because he was embarrassed about feeling so utterly helpless. Kyle told the older man about the text messages, the notes, the social media lurking, that he had told his ex he was gay and had a boyfriend and how he had met Dan who had graciously agreed to play the part.

Mr Simmons didn't interrupt his son once. He simply listened intently, humming or nodding his head periodically as an indication that he was focusing on the boy's words, and gave Kyle plenty of time and space to take the weight he'd been carrying around off his mind.

 

“This whole thing's been following me around like a rain cloud and recently, not a day goes by that I don't feel anxious. And asking Dan to pretend to be my boyfriend was a stupid idea. I didn't think it through, I just thought if she believes I'm with someone else, she'll back off. And when I got her note last week I thought _wow, she actually thinks I'm just using him_ before I realised that's probably what _he_ thinks as well.”

Kyle exhaled and closed his eyes, deflating visibly. Peach had curled up next to his leg and was purring contentedly and he tried to let the low, sonorous vibrations soothe his reeling mind.

“He's one of the nicest people I've ever met, dad. And I've only been thinking about myself and how I want to get rid of _her_. He probably thinks I'm a selfish prick, so even if I apologise, he might not want to be my friend. And if _that's_ not the final straw, he definitely thinks I'm a dick for ignoring him for almost a _week_.”

 

Mr Simmons eyed his son contemplatively and a small smile played on his lips.

“If you were a dick, you wouldn't have given this so much thought, Kyle.”

 

The boy looked up at his father, feeling dejected as the doubt coursing through his body tried to force down the timid hope that blossomed within him as soon as he saw his dad's upbeat countenance.

 

The older man straightened himself. “Listen,” he seemed to be weighing his words, “I think you're right – it was a stupid idea. But you were in a strange, awkward situation and you wanted it to go away. So you said the first thing that popped into your head.” He smiled. “Said thing being _I'm gay_ is a matter we can talk about another time if you'd like.”

 

Kyle leaned back and laughed heartily, and Mr Simmons chuckled as well, carefully taking the now empty mug from his son's hands and placing it on the wooden coffee table that was bedecked with countless colourful crayon scribbles that Kyle had left in his wake during an unattended moment when he was three years old. His dad had never succeeded in removing the big, bold drawings, no matter how vigorously he scrubbed, so they had simply acknowledged them as part of the décor.

 

“Everyone makes mistakes, Kyle. You _should_ apologise to him for the ignoring because that was unnecessary. You're in this situation together now, because _you_ brought him into it. But,” he said with conviction when he saw the guilt on his son's face, “ _Dan_ agreed to it. And correct me if I'm wrong but he sounds like a reasonable enough man and he's certainly old enough to weigh up decisions before he makes them. He most probably knew it wasn't going to be a walk in the park. What neither of you seems to have anticipated was the friendship you would strike up.”

He squeezed Kyle's arm in a comforting gesture and smiled warmly. “Tell him what you just told me. That it was a bad idea, that you want to stop pretending you're romantically involved, that you value his friendship and would like to start from there. I'm sure he'll listen to what you have to say.”

 

Kyle hummed and stroked the particularly soft fur behind Peach's ears. His dad was probably right. The least he could do was give it a shot.

 

Mr Simmons cleared his throat. “And now I want you to do me a favour,” he said, a serious look crossing his kind face.

 

Kyle raised his eyes. “Oh yeah? What's that?”

 

“Go to bed, Kyle. You need your sleep if you want to stay this handsome.”

 


	12. And the Wind Blows You Home (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second part of that chapter I promised I would upload much sooner. I was clearly lying.  
> I hope this is somewhat enjoyable. As always, kudos and comments mean a lot to me.  
> Thank you so much for reading <3

_Thursday 6 th November_

 

 

 

Dan let the austere autumn landscape pass him by in a blur as he stared out the window – a glimpse of a notably scrubby tree, a person brushing past in a rush to get home or a car stopping at a railway crossing, his gaze clung to each and every detail for a mere second before moving on to the next, until his eyes were swimming and he settled them on the horizon instead, drinking in the gruffness of the fleeting clouds and the theatrical greyness of the sky.

It was raining yet again and Dan hadn't slept.

 

Half of the nearly two-hour-long train journey to his dad's place already behind him, he shifted with a conscious exhale and tried to focus his weary eyes back on his reading matter. He had skimmed the last three pages without taking in the meaning behind any of the hollow words and turned back to the beginning of the chapter with a sigh. Reading the title “Strange insertions in _The Merchant of Venice_ ” for what felt like the twentieth time, he skipped to the passage where he believed his focus had abandoned him in favour of embracing the clouds.

 

_Antonio's perverse movement toward self-destruction, his solitary position outside of the marriage bond at the play's conclusion, and the homoerotic nature of his-_

 

Dan shut the book with a huff. There was no use, he was going to have to read it all over again if he continued this way.

Resting his head against the worn, deep blue upholstery of the uncomfortable seat, he closed his eyes and revelled in the familiar burning sensation behind his lids.

 

 

_It's obvious he has a thing for you._

 

 

It had been a week since Kyle had more or less graciously given Dan the brush-off and this one line of Lily's letter had been echoing inside his head ever since.

Having shot Kyle text after text over the first three days after the _incident_ , Dan had soon realised that he was starting to act a lot like the very same girl the younger man was trying to reject and should probably take a step back. Besides, if Kyle _wanted_ to talk to him he would have said so by now, and if he believed that Dan was indeed in love with him, the very same sending him a myriad of text messages to assure him he _wasn't_ presumably ended up being painfully self-defeating.

It also didn't help that Ralph had jokingly told anyone who would hear of it that Dan was sulking because his _boyfriend_ had _ditched him_. And by snapping at his best friend to _shut up and stop taking the piss_ , Dan had doubtlessly managed to worsen the situation for himself.

 

Sighing again, Dan let his head roll to the side, eyes running over the dirty streaks on the thick glass. Ralph was supposed to come home with him this weekend, as Mr Smith had invited him over for their semi-regular movie night, but Ralph had been mortally offended after Dan's little outburst and had decided he needed to stay behind to refine some coursework _without major distractions_ , as he put it.

 

Staring blankly at the book in his hands, Dan scratched listlessly at the remnants of the small price sticker on the back.

He hated Ralph being mad at him. He hated not being able to talk to Kyle and he hated liking his gentle eyes and contagious laugh as much as he did after knowing him for such a short time.

 

He hated that, for the past week, all he'd been able to think about was that he missed the younger man like a limb.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Coming home wasn't easy for Dan.

It was a staggering surge of memories that still struck him every time he did, a very peculiar palette of conflicting emotions that he associated with the small number of Brighton Beach photographs on their living room wall, his mum's favourite blue coffee mug in the kitchen cabinet and her undisturbed perfume bottles on the bathroom windowsill – her most precious possessions arranged in a place that she had never set foot in.

 

The modest flat that they had moved into nearly a year ago and that was situated in a slightly cheaper part of the outrageously expensive city, still looked strangely uninhabited. Mr Smith had always been a very orderly, almost minimalist man (whereas Dan himself went through alternating phases of needing tidiness in order to _breathe_ versus letting his entire surroundings be swallowed by infernal chaos) and had decided to keep but a few of his wife's belongings when they changed their quarters. A fresh start, a weight off their shoulders – he had believed it was exactly what his son needed.

And even though Mrs Smith's presence remained inexplicably ubiquitous, as if she had ventured forward alongside her son and husband, all was _quiet_ after she was gone, so quiet it made Dan's ears ring.

 

After leaving to live on campus, Dan had been terrified to come home, had wanted to stay away from his _gilded cage_ for as long as possible, yet the first time he _did_ circle back, he had to admit to himself that, after keeping his distance from a home that lacked the essence of one, _returning_ had felt liberating in a bittersweet sort of way. That the memories, good and bad, and the painful sentiments of finally _belonging_ after years of disorientation were not tied to a place but to his _dad_ , rejected by him though he had felt for years, and the understanding of this important fact was so overwhelming that it took his breath away.

 

He had learned to hide the dreaded feeling of abandonment going hand in hand with the tremendous sense of guilt he had gotten all too used to after his mother's death, the anger he felt towards his dad (falsely directed as he now knew it was), who, back then, had felt like the _one_ person who could have _done something_.

He very likely couldn't have.

 

It had taken a good while but somehow they had learned to _live_ again and everything had found a strained sort of balance that, to this day, remained so vulnerable that Dan was concerned their world would collapse like a house of cards every time he went home.

 

Entering the poorly heated flat, Mr Smith dropped Dan's rucksack next to his bedroom door and turned to smile at him.

 

“So. Here we are.”

 

Dan glanced around to see if anything had changed but as always, the small space had not altered one bit since he had last spent the weekend. The potted plant on the narrow window ledge next to the dining table was still miserably withered, the single folding chair on the balcony leaving ugly rust stains on the grubby tiles, and even the pale red matryoshka on a shelf by the front door that his mum had brought home from a trip to Saint Petersburg in her early twenties and that Dan had turned to face the wall on his last visit, had remained in its irritating new position.

 

Dan simply nodded at his dad and toed off his shoes, and without further ado, Mr Smith shuffled into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Dan suspected that brewing tea might actually be what stopped him from becoming hysterical but presently it was mainly a way for them both to procrastinate talking to each other. Having Ralph around was usually a big help but well ... no such luck now.

 

As usual, having a sit-down and sipping tea, Mr Smith inquired about his son's life at university, his lectures that, as a former literature professor, he was genuinely interested in and his friendships that really hadn't changed much over the past years, seeing as Ralph was more or less his only close friend. Dan gave just about the same speech as he always did, scanning his dad's face as he spoke about _this_ classic piece of literature and _that_ particularly provocative poem as well as what his best friend had been up to lately, and recited a very much practised _“Yeah, I'm doing great. Been feeling really good lately.”_

Though he was trying to evade the fact that his new friend had already decided to stop talking to him, Dan was tempted to tell his dad about Kyle – yet, choosing not to risk waking his father's apprehensive nature, he kept the tumultuous story to himself and a heavy silence fell over them once Dan finished giving him the basic rundown.

 

Mr Smith nodded his head, sipping his milky tea and studying his son carefully from behind round glasses. “Anything else?”

 

Dan furrowed his brow.

“Uh, nope.”

 

His dad set down the cup with a soft clank of porcelain against wood and clasped his hands, a worry line slowly etching itself into his skin.

“Did something happen?”

 

“No.” The young man sat up, keeping a hand clutched around his drink for warmth and comfort, thumb brushing anxiously over the rim of the mug.

“Why are you asking?”

 

Mr Smith sighed and shook his head. “Ralph said you were upset about something.”

 

_This again._

“You know, you could just ask _me_ instead of always talking to Ralph behind my back.”

 

Mr Smith removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A hint of guilt swept across his features. “I don't _always talk to Ralph_. I ... check in with him occasionally.”

 

“Cause you don't trust me.”

 

“No, because I want to make sure you're not keeping anything important from me. And, quite frankly, Ralph is much more likely to give me a truthful answer than you are.”

 

Dan let his gaze drift out the window, taking in the dreary, grey cement below. He could feel himself getting worked up.

“You know,” he said, “I'm really sick of you two teaming up against me.”

 

His dad gave him a long, commiserating look and rose from his seat.

“Nobody's teaming up against you, Daniel.”

 

Dan stood as well, nearly tripping over his chair as he moved to face his father, upset bubbling inside him.

“Why do you always run as soon as I try to make a point?”

 

“Because your point is always that you're fine and you don't need help.”

 

Dan swallowed. “I don't.”

 

“Don't push it,” his dad warned, “Letting you enrol at university and _live on campus_ was a risk I was reluctant to take. It was Ralph who talked me around and so far, it hasn't been detrimental to your health – but I can still decide you're better off at home.”

 

Dan opened his mouth to argue back when his dad's default ringtone startled them both and Mr Smith swiftly answered the call, tone professional and reserved. A number of hums and words of agreement escaped him before he hung up and sighed.

 

“Listen, I need to go pick up a few things from the library. I won't be long but with the traffic ... why don't you start the movie without me.”

 

“Sure,” Dan mumbled dejectedly but he knew he was not going to be able to muster the energy to even choose a film without his father's presence compelling him to do so.

 

Mr Smith gathered some papers, put on his coat and shoes in utter silence and shot a final glance at his son. He looked like he wanted to say something, something _important_ , yet all that slipped past his lips was a barely audible _“See you later”_ before he let the door fall shut behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Dan collapsed on the sofa, feeling gnawingly empty as he stared at the framed photographs of his parents on their wedding day, the overjoyed smiles on their young faces, the pride in his dad's eyes as he held his beautiful wife's hand – a bright, promising future just waiting for them to clasp.

 

Looking at her joyous expression, Dan couldn't help wondering what his mum would say if she could see how tired her son had become of everything.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

_Friday 7 th November_

 

 

 

Mr Smith had returned home late the previous night, hours after Dan had determined that he might as well go to bed. He had heard him come in and drop his keys on the dining table, then the sound of the kettle coming to a boil as the man lingered in the kitchen. He was fairly certain that his dad had spoken to somebody on the phone for a while but his already quiet voice had soon died down altogether and Dan had fallen into a restless slumber that lasted about two hours before he woke up abruptly and for no apparent reason, finding himself unable to fall asleep again.

 

Tossing and turning in his bed in the dim, stuffy room with the bare walls, Dan couldn't help but conclude that nothing in his life ever seemed to have _a bloody point_.

Fighting with Ralph was pointless. Kyle ignoring him was truthfully really fucking pointless. Arguing with his dad about decisions he knew Mr Smith tried to make in his son's best interest – pointless. So, if all this crap was going to start closing in on him as soon as he so much as _attempted_ to face it, why should he even bother getting himself out of bed in the first place? Wasn't it equally senseless to leave his room at all if he was only going to be forced to deal with more bullshit?

 

He buried his face in his pillow and tried to resist the hopelessness that was slowly filling up his lungs like heavy cement – oh, how nice it would be if he could just _sleep_ for, say, the next five to six months _at least_.

 

As it was past midday, Mr Smith had tried to coax his son into leaving his bedroom a couple times over the past two or three hours but surrendered with a deep-drawn sigh once Dan weakly informed him that he had a headache.

Between his dad cranking up the volume on the radio and a series of obnoxious noises resounding from the kitchen while he was presumably preparing lunch, Dan heard the familiar piercing ringtone of the landline and his dad's subdued voice echoing off the thin walls in a muffled manner. A knock on his door made the young man raise his head ever so slightly.

 

“Dan?”

 

He didn't answer.

 

“There's a Kyle on the phone for you.”

 

Dan lay stock still and held his breath.

No way.

No way Kyle wanted to talk to him _now_ , after nearly _a week_ of complete radio silence.

He strained his ears, heart hammering in an anticipatory rhythm as if he was watching a horror film, waiting anxiously for the next jump scare to yank him from his seat.

 

The door opened a tiny crack and Mr Smith sighed.

“Dan, come on.”

 

Rolling over just enough to see his father's impervious expression, Dan reached out his hand falteringly and with another exasperated sigh, the older man ambled into the room and dropped the phone on the bed, shaking his head and uttering a terse “We're having lunch in a minute” before shutting the door discreetly on his way out.

 

Dan swallowed and sat up, looking askance at the handset at the foot of his bed as he grasped it tentatively and quickly pressed it close to his ear before he could change his mind.

The other end of the line was silent apart from a babel of indistinct background noises that sounded suspiciously like heavy objects being thrown around and kids fighting.

 

“Hello?”

 

Dan flinched slightly and clenched his fist around the bunched blankets in his lap.

“Hi.”

 

“Oh, you _are_ there,” Kyle's voice rang out, followed by a deep breath. “Good.”

 

Dan didn't respond.

 

“Um. How are you?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Oh. Good. That's, uh, that's great.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Kyle sighed. “This is only going to work if I own up to my mistakes, isn't it?”

The question brought a lump to Dan's throat. He had definitely been upset with Kyle for making him feel like _he_ was the one at fault – but was he going to muster up the courage to call him out on his behaviour? _Certainly not._

Silence fell over them as both men seemed to dwell on their thoughts, trying to put them in any order that would make sense to the other, and Dan couldn't help feeling as if they were engaged in a particularly uncomfortable game of magnetic poetry.

The sound of Kyle subtly clearing his throat drew Dan's attention back to the present and he tensed up in apprehension of what the younger man was going to say.

 

“I'm sorry, Dan. I ignored you all week and I was so wrong for doing it. My actions must have upset you and I hope you can forgive me – for being a dick, for pushing you away when you were trying to help me and for making you put up with the melodrama that follows me around.”

 

Stunned into rigidity, Dan slowly felt relief seep into his senses, drop by silent drop, and he carefully allowed himself to let his shoulders sag in relaxation before lying back down and throwing his free arm across his eyes.

_Please don't cry._

 

“And I'm sorry for apologising over the phone,” Kyle added sheepishly, “I know it would seem much more genuine in person.”

 

Dan tried to breathe evenly, desperate to keep the tears that were now building up in his eyes from manifesting in his voice and giving away the emotions that were finally clawing their way to the surface after a week of imprisonment.

“Did you learn that by heart?” he tried to veil his insecurity, though he was acutely aware of the irritating tremor in his speech. Kyle breathed out a near-laugh but didn't answer.

 

Gathering from the elongation of the other's silence that the younger man was, in fact, expecting a statement from him that would either communicate forgiveness or end their barely blossoming friendship on the spot, Dan rubbed the sleeve of his hoodie over his face, struggling to find the right words.

“Kyle, that's- it's okay. Let's just forget about the whole thing, yeah?”

 

“I don't want to forget about it. I want to remember that I fucked up so I won't make a mistake like this again. I've been so selfish and this- this whole fake-boyfriend thing was a _terrible_ idea, I don't know what the fuck I thought was gonna happen. I'm not doing it anymore. And I could totally understand if you didn't wanna talk to me after _all of this_ but if-”

 

“You- you wanna stop?”

 

Kyle sniffed. “Stop pretending, yes. I really like you, _a lot_ , and I want us to be friends. And I'm not letting _her_ mess it up, so ... do you think you could forgive me? And we could just ... start from scratch?”

 

Dan smiled and closed his eyes, realising that there was a slight chance he was actually dreaming – this was a proper apology, not a vague _sorry_ to add to the collection. Kyle understood that he had hurt Dan, apologised without making excuses, offered to make things right between them. He was willing to change his behaviour on Dan's behalf even though it was almost certainly going to inconvenience him personally.

“Yes,” Dan replied quietly, “starting from scratch sounds good.”

 

Kyle heaved a groan of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Dan, I promise I won't fuck up again- I'm really sorry.”

 

Though he was, for the most part, elated, Dan started feeling exceedingly embarrassed and he sat up once again, rearranging the different-sized pillows that lay scattered around him with nervous fingers. How did people continue a normal conversation after something like this? Small talk?

_Great. My speciality._

“So, uh ... how- how are _you_ then?”

 

“Oh ... terrible actually, now that you're asking.”

 

Dan furrowed his brow. “What's wrong?”

 

“I ate too much pasta, I think I might actually die.”

 

Dan laughed at that, outright and freely, and after a moment of silence Kyle giggled along with him until the older boy felt like the pressure that had been pushing down on his shoulders ever since that day in the other's dorm room was finally being levered up by the surprising ease in Kyle's bubbly laugh.

 

“What about you?” the younger man asked conversationally and sounding much more lively than before. “Doing anything fun?”

 

“Not really. I'm, uh ... still in bed.”

 

“It's half one.”

 

“I know,” the older man sighed out.

 

“You okay?”

 

Kyle sounded ... _concerned_ and Dan's stomach gave a little twist. He didn't want anyone, let alone Kyle, to be worried about him – but on the other hand ...

“I sort of had a fight with my dad last night but, you know, we fight sometimes. It's- I'm fine.”

 

“Sorry to hear that.” Kyle seemed to think for a moment before he spoke on. “I'm sure it'll be alright. Just ... don't let it get to you – try to relax. Read a book, drink some green tea or whatever. Have a wank in the shower.”

 

Dan scoffed and shook his head, yet he couldn't help but grin. He felt like he should be embarrassed – and he would have been if he was talking to anyone else – but this was Kyle and he was starting to get used to his very ... _Kyle_ sort of way of talking to people.

 

“It's not that easy. And you're a creep.”

 

“Just trying to look after you, man.”

Kyle laughed before falling silent rather abruptly – as if he was having second thoughts about his own cheerfulness. “I really am sorry, you know?”

 

“You said.”

 

“Not only about last week, about everything. About this whole _mess_.”

 

Dan hummed and raised his hand to draw small circles on the bridge of his bare foot.

“What mess? So far, there's hardly been much of a mess at all. Only a party that turned out better than I expected and a slightly creepy letter,” he said, consciously leaving out the Kyle-ignoring-Dan-for-no-reason part of the story, “and it's not like anyone forced me to help you out. It was _my_ decision, wasn't it? So just ... don't worry too much.”

 

Silence, then a small but genuine: “I'll try.”

Dan smiled to himself.

 

“So, yeah-” Kyle cleared his throat. “I just wanted to check in on you and apologise – and let you know that you don't have to pretend to be in love with me anymore.” He paused, then sniggered. “Unless you are, obviously.”

 

“Oh, uh ... no,” Dan laughed uneasily, “I'm not in love with you.”

 

“Yeah, I know. People don't fall in love within a week, Dan.” Kyle chuckled.

 

Dan kept still. He ran his hand over the colourful patchwork quilt on his bed. It had been in the family's possession for as long as he could remember but he had never truly noticed the patterns on the perfect squares – delicate blue flowers on white, orange dots on pale yellow, tiny mint green shells on light grey –, beautiful yet washed out as they were. Tracing the bright pink thread that held it all together, Dan smiled to himself and swallowed.

“Yeah, probably not.”

 

Kyle hummed his agreement, then suddenly perked up.

“Oh! My mum wants to meet you, _desperately_. She already loves you which sounds sort of creepy but I swear she's not dangerous. And also, you and I are going to the _Déjà Brew_ next week. My treat.”

 

Dan chuckled. “I'll take you up on that.”

 

“Please do.” He could hear the playful grin in Kyle's tone of voice. “Just stop me from eating too many cinnamon buns. Apparently, I'm _starting to grow sideways_.”

 

Dan laughed quietly and the silence that followed felt strangely comfortable and sweet – they had resolved the issue that had plagued both men, after all, had determined that there were, in fact, no hard feelings between them. It carried on until Kyle spoke up again, seeming almost reluctant, voice soft but clear.

 

“I can't wait to see you, Dan. I- I don't want to sound weird cause at the end of the day, we barely know each other but ... I've really missed you.”

 

Suddenly struck with emotion, Dan's breath caught in his throat and the strange swimming sensation in his head made him feel like he was floating. He blinked and pressed his lips together, trying to stave off the smile threatening to break away from the shadows of his mind, determined not to let himself invest too many feelings and hopes into this friendship. And yet ...

 

“I miss you, too.”

 

“Really?” Kyle sounded surprised.

 

 

_People don't fall in love within a week, Dan._

 

 

“Yeah,” he said and took a shaky breath. “Really.”

 


	13. Oh So Softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very long, I apologise.  
> Thank you so, so much to anyone who's liked and commented so far and to anyone who might do in the future. You people say the nicest, most motivating things.  
> <3

_**The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer.** _

 

_\- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. -_

 

 

 

 

 

_Nervous nervous nervous._

 

Kyle could quite assuredly claim to be a fairly confident person. Under any _ordinary_ circumstances, speaking to people – strangers even – did not faze him in the slightest and he never deemed it challenging to find a topic to gush over, more or less picking at a whim from the generous pool of ardencies he had accumulated over the years. Kyle was resourceful and quick-witted and knew how to wield humour in order to deflect any trace of persistent awkwardness in a conversation.

It was _what he did_ – using comicality and beaming aplomb so as to evade having to engage in any sort of sobriety. There was enough of that around them already.

 

Kyle was well aware that he did it and he knew that his behaviour could be construed as indifference but he mostly surrounded himself with those who understood him and knew that he cared like crazy and loved deeply underneath the defensive layers of humour and levity, people who didn't urge him to talk about his own thoughts and feelings but instead waited until he _wanted_ to knock down the barrier and allow himself to be vulnerable – in a dosed, controlled manner.

 

With Dan, it seemed to be just the opposite. Primarily because the older man was clearly very much unlike anyone Kyle had ever encountered and presumably needed to find and discern Kyle's open, sincere side to acknowledge that his jokes were not at all a sign of unconcern; but also because Kyle _wanted_ to reveal it to Dan – this less salient piece of the puzzle that portrayed his personality.

He wanted Dan _close_ , wanted to engage him in deeper, more meaningful conversations and let the older man glimpse behind the scenes of what Kyle tended to hold secluded from the sharp edges of the outside world.

 

He could still barely fathom how on earth Dan had forgiven his intolerable actions without bearing a grudge, and the conversation they had held over the phone three days ago had made Kyle feel so genuinely _happy_ that he had considered only about a million times whether he should call him again over the weekend – just to chat.

Not wanting to push his luck, he had ultimately decided against it. Fair enough, Dan had accepted his clumsy apology and they seemed _alright_ for the time being but maybe, deep down, Dan still quietly resented Kyle for his behaviour, making the younger man resolve upon giving the other time to adjust before he started ambushing him with carefree affection.

 

It was Monday morning and the first time the boys were seeing each other since _that day_ , and, thinking back over the slightly hysterical past week, Kyle had yet again found his way to his favourite coffee shop, making for his usual spot in the eager sun after ordering something with an almost indecent amount of caramel syrup in it as well as the biggest cinnamon bun on display – he was a stress eater.

Sipping the sugary drink, he tried not to glance at the clock on the other side of the room every five seconds as he took in the busy bustle of more or less enthusiastic coffee lovers and the handful of staff members whirling around in their lilac aprons, wiping down tables and attending to new customers.

It was eleven o'clock sharp, the exact time they had arranged to meet at the _Déjà Brew_ , and Dan was probably, hopefully, going to join him very soon (provided that his _soon_ had the same definition as Kyle's _soon_ ).

 

The realisation that he knew next to nothing about Dan and his personal life had made Kyle painfully aware of one thing – if he wanted to _know_ , he needed to _ask_. A simple concept, it seems, yet it had not crossed his mind when they had first spent time together at this very shop and Kyle had devoted an aeon to waxing lyrical about his pets. He still very much wanted to slap himself when he thought back to it.

 

Kyle took a big bite of his pastry, eyes following the small number of cars that passed by the window, metal briefly glistening in the sun and indulging in the near-perfect illusion of a warm summer day, and, leaning back in the snug, mustard-coloured armchair, he waited. Every time the door opened and a biting gush of cold November air blustered into the warm refuge, he looked up sharply, heartbeat accelerating as he scanned the room for a familiar face. By the time half an hour since rendezvous had passed, he was starting to feel increasingly restless.

 

Spiralling downwards into a sombre pool of _what if he realised I'm an idiot and doesn't wanna talk to me anymore_ , wrapped in a pinch of invidious self-pity, Kyle stared out the window, watching a tiny bird hurry across the confined patch of grass across the road from the café and singing sentimental Michael Bublé songs in his head.

He very nearly jumped out of his skin and turned with an all but painful twist of the head when someone tapped on the glass right next to him – it was Dan, standing on the pavement looking half-frozen and sleepy with a ridiculous scarf covering a large part of his pale face and seeming – dare he say – _delighted_ at having startled the younger man (it was the first time the word _adorable_ vehemently crossed Kyle's mind in relation to someone who was over the age of eight and under the age of seventy-five).

 

The younger man released a harsh breath, heavy with built-up tension, and rolled his eyes at Dan who proceeded to burst into a strange full-body laugh, practically doubling over in front of the window as if Kyle had cracked the best joke he had heard all week.

Cocking his head and grinning, Kyle flipped Dan off, and the older man generously returned the favour, not awaiting the other's reaction before he waltzed around the corner to the front door of the shop, trying to pull it open and nearly toppling over before realising he had to push it. Kyle snorted.

_What a weirdo._

 

Dan walked purposefully across the room to the small, round table that Kyle was sat at and with a clumsy movement removed his scarf and plonked himself down in the seat opposite Kyle's. His hair was a windswept wreck, his cheeks reddened from the pinching cold and he was slightly out of breath – but though he appeared to be as timid and lovably awkward as ever, he seemed not nearly as withdrawn and impassive as he had been the last time they had sat across from one another in these very seats.

 

Foregoing any sort of formal greeting, Kyle smiled.

“You're hella late,” he said and watched with amusement as Dan blushed furiously.

 

“Sorry,” the older man muttered and frowned. “I don't have an excuse, except the last time I wasn't late was when there was free pizza at the cafeteria,” he apologised with a shrug and Kyle felt slightly taken aback for a moment before he burst into laughter.

_He jokes!_

 

Dan smiled shyly and looked down at the scarf in his lap, and Kyle, still chuckling, cleared his throat.

“What do you fancy?” he asked with a nod of the head towards the counter and Dan glanced at the empty plate in front of the younger man and raised both eyebrows.

 

“You know, I can't stop you from eating those things if you do it while I'm not here,” he commented and Kyle narrowed his eyes.

 

“You _might have_ been able to stop me if you hadn't been an hour late.”

 

“ _Almost_ an hour,” Dan insisted, yet he averted his eyes with a small sigh. “But yeah, touché.”

 

Kyle stood and started heading towards the counter, smiling as he paused to touch Dan's shoulder lightly. To his surprise, Dan winced but impalpably at the physical contact.

“All jokes aside, I'm not mad. Black coffee?”

 

Dan stared at him for a brief moment and the vivid, blue depths of his eyes surged through Kyle's bones like a numbing shock wave. It was not only their striking hue or the tender eyelashes that encompassed them like a dark crown – it was the way in which Dan _looked at him_ that Kyle found to be quite unusual. Like he was relevant, _valuable_ , as if the other acknowledged him in a way that went above and beyond physical recognition.

Dan, it seemed, was imparting an entire cosmos through a single look, a whole world that Kyle could not yet fathom, and just as he came a mere inch closer to being able to grasp what it all meant, Dan blinked and it all slipped away into the smoke that enveloped the older man like an insoluble mystery.

 

Dan nodded subtly and, blinking himself back into the present, Kyle stared back at him dumbfounded, entirely unable to figure out why the other was nodding at him, until ...

 

_Coffee, Kyle._

“Right, yeah,” he murmured and stumbled more than he walked over to the barista leaning against the black marble worktop, sporting a smirk that Kyle chose to ignore. He coughed subtly.

“Can I have a black coffee, please?”

 

She grinned, showing off a tooth gap behind the purple lipstick that perfectly complemented the shade of her apron. “Sure, hun. Coming right up.”

Kyle looked down into the face of the attractive young woman. Her yellow name tag read _Harriet_ with a wonky flower drawn next to it, and her brown curls bounced happily with every step she took. Kyle had chatted with her a couple times before (inevitably so, seeing as he hung around the _Déjà Brew_ a minimum of three times a week) and she eyed Dan curiously as Kyle paid for the drink.

 

“So, you and cutie with the glasses.”

Kyle blinked at her, confused, and Harriet rolled her eyes sympathetically.

“This a date? Or just ... guys being dudes?”

 

Kyle sighed. “We're friends.”

 

“Uh-huh,” she replied, pouring the hot brew into a beige ceramic mug with mint green swirls painted all over the curved handle. “Mate, you had some _serious_ eye lovin' going on there just now, if you-”

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” Kyle intervened, shaking his head good-naturedly and carefully taking the cup from her grasp. He shuffled back to Dan who had shed his hoodie jacket and was staring closely at his phone, and, setting the coffee down on the polished table, Kyle perched on the very edge of the seat across from the older man and waited patiently for Dan to become aware of his presence. When he realised that it did not necessarily seem like this was going to happen anytime soon, Kyle reached across the table in an undisguised gesture, grasping the cup and taking a tentative sip of the steaming drink. It was disgustingly bitter and he pulled a face and mimicked throwing up.

 

“How the hell do you swallow this stuff without it coming back up?” he asked and Dan finally looked up as Kyle set down the mug, shuddering exaggeratedly and raising a small smile from the older man.

 

“At least my coffee isn't more sugar than coffee,” Dan replied and brought the cup to his mouth, breathing in the heavy scent wafting off it in pale waves before sipping it slowly, and something in Kyle's chest jumped pleasantly as the other's lips touched the very same ceramic that his own had curled around only moments prior.

 

“So,” Kyle started, positively buzzing, “what do you wanna do today?”

 

Dan glanced at him over the rim of the mug, seeming surprised – as if he had not expected to be presented with the option to choose what _he_ wanted to do.

“I don't know. What do _you_ want to do?” he dodged the question, pushing up his tortoiseshell glasses with his middle finger. There was something sweetly rebellious about the gesture and Kyle sniggered and shook his head.

 

“It doesn't work that way, babes. I'm trying to _repent_ , remember? So – your choice.”

 

Dan had another sip and wrinkled his nose ever so slightly.

“Well, we could-,” he paused. “No, that's lame.”

 

Kyle perked up immediately. “What?”

 

“I just- I need to get some reading material for an essay. I was gonna go to the shop later but I can do it another time if it's too boring.” He seemed embarrassed, circling the rim of the cup with his index finger and avoiding Kyle's gaze.

 

The younger man beamed. This was his chance to find out more about Dan's day-to-day life at university, his classes and subjects – his interests even. And while Kyle himself did not necessarily go to the bookshop on his own all that often, he certainly appreciated that there was something intriguing about being surrounded by hidden words.

“Sounds good, let's do it!” he stated confidently and Dan gaped at him.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Absolutely. Drink up, darlin', we're going book shopping!”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

It was a rather comforting feeling to see Dan amidst hundreds of books, wrapped up in a hoodie jacket that hung limply around his slender shoulders, his scarf by now bunched and wedged under his arm. His glasses gave him an intellectual streak, the undone shoelaces of one of his Converse were dragging around his feet like catfish whiskers and a small ring of crusted mud decorated the seam of his black jeans.

 

For a short while, Kyle followed Dan like a puppy marvelling at his owner, glancing around the small, independent shop whenever the other stopped to inspect a seemingly random paperback or picture book, before he decided that he was being ridiculously clingy – and the older lady standing in the _Your Garden_ section and staring at him accusingly probably thought he was stalking Dan, seeing as the older man was so engrossed in _American Poetry_ that he had clearly forgotten about his friend.

Finally stopping by a bargain counter that was quite literally swamped with red and yellow sale stickers, Kyle pretended to be immensely interested in a book about the principles of knitting as he more or less subtly continued watching Dan curiously.

 

The older man looked comfortable. Dan had mentioned that this was one of his favourite bookshops around and had expertly headed for a very specific set of shelves, running his fingers over the dark, smooth wood underneath each and every row of books in search of his target. He had pulled out a few, leafed through them swiftly, slid them back into the gap waiting for them, then moved on to the next – it was almost hypnotic to watch him so absorbed and in his element, making barely a sound and looking very much content.

 

Dan had been staring intently at the same book for about five minutes now, seeming fully immersed, and Kyle had picked up a generously illustrated tome on North American forest birds. Deciding to at least attempt to get back at Dan for scaring the shit out of him earlier, Kyle lay down the book and proceeded to all but tiptoe over to the older man, barely breathing as he leaned into Dan's space and briefly inhaled the scent of mint chewing gum that radiated from him.

 

“What you reading?” he whispered right in his ear – Dan didn't even flinch.

 

Instead, he let the pages flutter shut, letting Kyle sneak a glance at the contrasty cover. The title read _How To Seduce A Straight Guy_.

Kyle nearly choked on his own spit and Dan snorted.

 

“I was trying to make a joke,” he hurried to explain, “but it took you _ages_ to come over and satisfy your curiosity.”

 

Kyle blinked at him, slightly flabbergasted. “Satisfy my ...?”

 

Dan furrowed his brow and pointed upwards and Kyle glanced at the flashy sign above the bookshelf reading _LGBTQ Literature_ in rainbow lettering.

 

_I'm an idiot._

“So you- you don't need the book.”

 

Dan laughed. “I don't know what sort of books you read in your lectures but this should probably not be it.”

He took another book from the shelf, flipping it over to glance at the price sticker.

“At least in Musical Theory it shouldn't,” Dan added and held up a pink-and-blue novel named _A Single Man_ , smiling cheekily.

“This I need. The other one I'll come back for when you're not spying on me,” he disclosed jokingly and Kyle, still feeling slightly nonplussed, had no idea how to answer.

 

Dan observed him guardedly and his smile suddenly faltered. He knitted his brow and, biting his lower lip, he turned and walked rather swiftly towards the tills.

Kyle stared after him, feeling inherently confused. He grabbed his phone from the back pocket of his torn blue jeans and shot Ralph Pelleymounter a quick text.

 

 

 

**[10/11 1:18 pm] Kyle:** what happened to dan

 

 

Ralph answered immediately.

 

 

**[10/11 1:18 pm] Ralph:** what do you mean what happened to dan??

 

**[10/11 1:19 pm] Kyle:** not sure man

**[10/11 1:19 pm] Kyle:** he's making jokes about gay stuff

 

**[10/11 1:19 pm] Ralph:** hahahaha

**[10/11 1:20 pm] Ralph:** get used to it

 

 

 

Feeling even more perplexed, Kyle was catapulted back into the present when he heard a soft rustling in front of him and, upon looking up, saw Dan carefully sliding a plastic bag bearing the bookshop's logo into his rucksack.

Dan avoided making eye contact and looked a lot redder than he should do in the insufficiently heated shop.

 

“Um, I'm sorry. I always joke with Ralph about this stuff, I should've known that it would make you uncomfortable.” He stared down at his shoes.

 

_He thinks you mind._

Kyle cleared his throat and softly brushed his hand against Dan's, a gesture that could certainly be regarded as a harmless slip-up.

“Your sexuality doesn't make me uncomfortable, Dan.”

 

The older man glanced up at that, scepticism written all over his flushed features.

 

“I just-” Kyle chuckled unbelievingly and ran a hand through his hair, “I wasn't- if I'm being completely honest, I wasn't expecting you to joke much. And definitely not about, you know.”

He waved his hand about vaguely, not entirely sure the level of their relationship allowed for an in-depth discussion of the other's sexual orientation just yet.

 

Dan dropped his gaze to the floor and licked his lips briefly, looking like he was fighting an internal battle as he appeared to ponder whether or not it was wise to say what seemed to be on his mind.

 

He inhaled sharply.

“I only make these jokes around people I trust,” he stammered out in a rush and turned to leave the bookshop without another glance at his companion.

 

After a moment of stunned silence, Kyle broke into a wide grin, relishing the distinct tingling sensation running down his back before he hurried after Dan.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

They ended up going to quite a few shops, quickly acquiring a habit that consisted of Kyle pointing at anything that was in any way related to cats with a gasped _“I need it”_ and Dan shaking his head every time, assuming an air of faked austerity and trying not to laugh.

Kyle found out that Dan had a keen interest in Greek mythology, had never played _Twister_ (which, quite frankly, was _ridiculous_ ) and that his favourite book as a child had been _The Neverending Story_ by a German writer called Michael Ende. Kyle vaguely remembered watching the adaptation when he was little, a film that was distinctly memorable due to the hero's best friend – a dragon that bore an astonishing resemblance to a large, white and highly disturbing dachshund.

He also remembered finding it really fucking scary.

 

Feeling like it was a _now or never_ type of situation, Kyle decided to push just enough to catch an unfiltered glimpse of _Dan Smith_ , and in all fairness, the other didn't seem all too reluctant to answer the more generic questions.

They were walking back towards campus, up the same path they had strolled down in a state of awkward togetherness just two weeks ago, and Kyle couldn't help but marvel at how quickly he had taken a shine to the older boy with the intriguing mind and quiet demeanour.

It was past four o'clock and while not yet quite setting, the sun was sinking lower towards the curve of the ground, like a groom bending down to touch his lover's navel with a searing kiss.

It was a beautiful day, cold and golden, and rich waves of light soaked the bleak trees, made the leaves scattering the ground gleam as if they were on fire, dipped Dan's face in warmth and emphasised every single freckle, bringing a softness to his pale complexion that Kyle had not seen before.

He was ... very handsome.

 

“Hm. Favourite food?”

 

Kyle blinked at him, then smiled softly.

“That's easy. My mum's home-made cherry pie.”

 

“Okay, why would anyone prefer cherry pie over apple pie,” Dan started and Kyle gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like a wounded man, “and also, cherry pie doesn't count as a favourite food. That's why people ask about favourite food and favourite dessert _separately_.”

 

Kyle laughed. “Smart arse. But okay, your rules. For now.”

Dan raised an almost challenging eyebrow and Kyle grinned.

“So, favourite food is pizza. Pepperoni, preferably. Favourite dessert is cherry pie which is superior to literally _any_ other pie.”

Dan giggled.

 

“What about you?”

 

The older man hummed, as if deeply contemplating the question. “You know what – mine's probably pizza as well. Don't really have any toppings I don't like, at least not that I've encountered. As long as there's an obscene amount of cheese on top.”

 

“What about pineapple?”

 

Dan stopped dead in his tracks and Kyle mimicked him, surprised.

“I am not discussing pineapple pizza with you.”

 

Kyle raised an inquisitive eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask the obvious question, but Dan cut him short.

“I had this discussion once and I swear, no one could've anticipated the ripples it caused. So nope, I am _never_ talking about it again.”

 

He seemed serious enough and after a moment of silently staring at each other, both boys broke out into laughter and Kyle raised his hands in mock defence.

“Alright, alright. Duly noted.” He chuckled. “Favourite dessert then?”

 

Dan sighed. “Don't tell Ralph I said this but once when I was sick he made me this amazing chocolate pudding that was genuinely the best thing I have ever tasted.”

He shook his head sadly.

“I've asked him so many times to make it again but he says it's only for when I'm _really_ sick. So yeah, know anyone who's fatally plague-ridden?”

 

Kyle snorted. “Amazing. I gotta say, man, your friendship is very inspiring.”

 

Dan sighed deeply and Kyle didn't miss the touch of hurt flashing across his face, like a shadow that fell over him as he looked down and dragged the toe of his shoe over the leaf-strewn asphalt.

“Yeah, well, he's not talking to me right now. How inspiring is that?”

 

Kyle hesitated. “I'm sorry. Did you- did you have a fight?”

 

“Not really,” Dan stared into space and shook his head. “I got mad at him for joking around and now he won't talk to me. Seeing as there's quite a lot of that lately, the problem is probably me.”

 

Kyle kept still. Dan not dwelling on the previous week's conflict whatsoever had been too good to be true after all. But – yet again – the older man surprised him as he jerked to a halt and gazed up at him, his eyes wide and earnest.

 

“I'm sorry, that was unnecessary.”

 

Kyle smiled. “So was my behaviour.”

 

Dan shook his head. “You apologised and everything, I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed.

 

Hoping to sidestep yet another barrage of awkward apologies, Kyle continued walking across the deserted campus, waiting for Dan to catch up before he spoke again, softly as if the volume with which the words were spoken would subdue their objectivity.

“So ... you guys don't fight a lot then?”

 

“Not at all,” the older man responded quietly. “Which is kind of a miracle, considering that we're usually _glued_ together all day long. So yeah, when we _do_ fight, it ... it hurts.”

Dan looked into Kyle's eyes and offered him a small smile, so weak and heartbroken that the younger man felt like somebody had successfully knocked every last drop of air out of his lungs with a sledgehammer.

 

“Um, I-” he started, struggling to find the right words to make the other feel better.

_Fuck, I don't know how to comfort anyone over the age of five._

 

He noticed Dan glancing at him questioningly out of the corner of his eye and, much to his own annoyance, Kyle jumped slightly when the older man touched his arm in a gesture of consolation.

“Don't worry about it, okay?” Dan all but whispered and Kyle suddenly felt very lonely, face to face with this man's remarkable and vulnerable nature. The gentle pressure of Dan's hand on his arm felt reassuring and exciting at once and Kyle could not deny that it was an exceptional feeling to have the other initiate physical contact of his own accord, no matter how minuscule.

 

Smiling to himself, Kyle followed Dan to the back entrance of the halls of residence, contemplating that, in a manner of speaking, he could hardly despise Lily if she had indirectly and very much inadvertently brought Dan into his life, when his eyes fell on a brisk movement in front of them.

_Speak of the devil._

“Oh no. No, no, no,” he breathed and Dan looked up to see what was going on.

 

It was Lily, exiting the very building entrance they were heading for, and she spotted them as soon as the words had left Kyle's mouth. Turning to face them fully, the young woman started marching towards them, wearing a scowl on her face and looking a lot like she was seconds away from raising her hands to the sky to attempt brewing up a violent thunder-storm.

Kyle turned to look at Dan, fear gushing through him in short bursts.

He looked around, trying to find a way out, _any_ way, then fastened his eyes on Dan who was watching him helplessly. Kyle shook his head, stepping closer and mumbling “Please don't hate me for this.”

 

He laid his hands on Dan's shoulders and pinned him against the wall, and for one agonising moment, it felt like the entire world was disintegrating and ascending around them at the same time as Kyle pressed their lips firmly together.

 

The scene was too frantic, too intense to appreciate the details – but later, Kyle would lie awake thinking about the earthy scent of coffee that enveloped Dan, not the one they had ordered at the _Déjà Brew_ but the lukewarm takeaway drink that Dan had bought and gulped down after they had left the bookshop; he would remember how coarse the knitted scarf around Dan's neck had felt to his heightened senses and how his sweaty palms had made him feel exceedingly self-conscious. Kyle would recall the way Dan's hair had collided _oh so softly_ with his own forehead, the way the other's eyes were screwed shut as if he was watching a horror film, wishing desperately for a particularly gruesome scene to pass.

And he would think about how warm Dan's lips felt and how kissing him made Kyle feel like a man dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean.

 

They stayed dead still for the shortest moment before Kyle had to catch a breath and unwittingly moved his lips against Dan's, then tilted his head slightly and kissed the shorter man with more intent. It was obvious that Dan was in no way prepared for this – and yet. He didn't pull away.

 

Being unable to tell whether ten seconds or twenty minutes had passed, Kyle carefully risked ending the tender touch, extracting his lips from the other's excruciatingly slowly and immediately glancing to his left out of the corner of his eye.

 

Lily was gone.

 

Kyle huffed loudly as a wave of relief threatened to buckle his knees and turned to look at Dan, preparing to apologise profusely.

The older man's arms were hanging limply by his sides, shoulders tense, his entire body language screaming discomfort, and he was gaping at Kyle with such unabashed _hurt_ shining in his eyes that Kyle was taken aback and withdrew slightly, hands shaking in anticipation as he could all but physically feel Dan restore the wall between them that Kyle had so very nearly managed to surmount.

 

“I-I'm so sorry, Dan. I-”

He stopped, waiting for Dan to say something or do something, _anything_ that would give him a moment to comprehend what had happened and to assess just how badly he had fucked up.

 

But Dan didn't snap at him, didn't cry or yell or slap the hell out of him – or whatever Kyle was expecting him to do.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and walked away without uttering a word.

 

 

And Kyle was left standing alone in the cold dusk, a high-pitched beeping sound filling his ears as the light posts around him slowly came on one by one.

 


	14. One New Voicemail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. This is a bit of a filler to fix some things and build up to others.  
> Hope it's alright, as always thank you so so much to everyone who even glimpses at this story.  
> ♥

The first thing that Ralph ever said to Dan was a heartfelt “Get out of my room.”

On the same day he uttered those words, they became inseparable.

 

When the young man thought back to those (subliminally idealised) days, every scene and each memory was glazed with a curious tinge, a faded, dark orange haze. A presaging hint perhaps, a memento of the heartache the universe was able to throw at them at will, or a melancholic surge that revealed itself in the form of a colour that Ralph associated with feelings of sentimentality and nostalgia – orange like the cap Dan's mum made him wear every time they left the house, orange like the classy seventies wallpaper in Ralph's grandma's kitchen where the two boys made completely flavourless ice pops and swapped dog-eared Pokémon cards, orange like the iodine tincture that Mr Pelleymounter dabbed on his son's knee after he fell from the tree that Dan had begged him not to climb.

 

Maybe it was because those days, in their wistfulness, felt like they were the daybreak of his life. Maybe it was because doing what seemed to make sense and adjusting everything to muted sepia tones made him feel _old_.

Or maybe Ralph was over-intellectualising things again, as he tended to whenever Dan was involved, and there was not really a particular reason for any of it. Just a trick of the mind, a way for his brain to distinguish this specific time period (and the emotional turmoil that ensued) from those that forewent and others that followed.

 

It was midsummer when the Smiths moved into the flat across the hall, about a week after Ralph's parents had agreed upon _taking a break_ , and even though Ralph's mum assured him that his dad would move back in with them soon, the boy had a dreadful, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. So when Mrs Pelleymounter encouraged him to _go say hi_ to Dan, acting purely out of spite, Ralph determined that he would _never_ play with the weird new boy.

(He would have much preferred to hang out with the extravagant elder lady who had occupied the flat before the Smiths moved in, to listen to stories from her youth in Berlin that were not exactly appropriate for an eight-year-old and let her feed him with somewhat _odd_ almond cookies until he felt sick.)

 

Besides, Dan was too _quiet_. Ralph hardly heard the boy when he left the house – no doors falling shut, no footsteps echoing through the staircase, no voice bouncing off the eggshell blue walls. Ralph's mum said that Mrs Smith was ill and had to rest a lot, so Dan was doubtlessly trying to be considerate, but Ralph disliked the fact that the younger boy seemed to leave no trace at all besides the occasional colourful toffee wrapper at the bottom of the stairs or by the front door, and he disliked that Dan's annoyingly plain clothes never seemed to fit him, rather devouring his scrawny stature.

Ralph – who was angry with his parents for still pretending, after years of fighting and long periods of him feeling like he was sitting at the dinner table with strangers, that it was all just temporary and they were not thinking about getting a divorce, and angry with his best friend Billie whose parents had separated a while ago and who kept telling him, in such a commiserative manner, that she _knew_ it was happening to him too – wanted to find a reason to pick on Dan. Any reason at all.

 

The only problem was that the younger boy was _really nice_.

He smiled at Ralph whenever he spotted him, yet never said a thing. He waved at him every now and then, shyly, from a safe distance away, appearing curious and fearful at the same time. He came over to their flat and said nice things to Ralph's mum, thanked her for the bread she made for Mrs Smith and for driving her to the hospital, and asked if he could pet their cat. And, of course, on top of being sweet, attentive and generally pleasant to be around, he had to be extraordinarily polite as well.

Ralph wanted to be pissed off when he saw Dan sitting at the kitchen table in _his_ home with _his_ mum, sipping milk from _his_ favourite _Power Rangers_ cup and nibbling _his_ favourite chocolate biscuits. He wanted to hate Dan but instead felt strangely and irritatingly drawn to him.

 

Then, in the deep, cosy folds of autumn, Ralph's ninth birthday advanced, _creepingly_ , and all week, from the moment he woke up to the second he fell into a dream-filled slumber, it was all that was on his mind – especially the prospect of spending at least the second half of his _big day_ with his dad, whom he had not been seeing as much as he wanted to, made him giddy with anticipation. Mr Pelleymounter had agreed to pick his son up after lunch, take him to the cinema and then out for dinner at Ralph's favourite restaurant. Yet, much to the boy's dismay and disappointment, his dad called ten minutes before pick-up to inform his wife that he was not going to make it – _something came up_.

Ralph tried very hard not to start crying as he shouted at his mum (who really wasn't responsible for her husband's actions and looked just as upset as her son felt) but as soon as he slammed the door to his bedroom shut, he could feel the tears spilling freely from his eyes. Why, just _why_ was the whole world against him?

Ten minutes later and as Ralph was still using his pillow as a makeshift punchbag, the door opened a smidge and Dan poked his head into the room, looking concerned, and Ralph was so stunned by his neighbour's very sudden and unexpected appearance that the only words he (only just) managed to stammer out were “Get out of my room.”

 

But Dan didn't.

 

He tiptoed inside and crouched down at the further end of the room, where he could escape should Ralph decide to start hurling things at him, but he _stayed_ , staring with his stupidly big eyes at the large, colourful posters on Ralph's walls – _Marvel's_ finest superheroes and a touch of _Zelda_ – as he hugged his legs tight to his chest, looking like he was trying to force himself to get comfortable in the unfamiliar room.

After a prolonged, mildly unsettling silence, Dan glanced up from under the brim of his cap and, without taking his eyes off the older boy, slowly unzipped his tiny blue rucksack – as if Ralph was a rabid animal and Dan afraid of making a sudden move and ending up with the other's teeth wrapped around his leg –, reached inside and pulled out a handful of toffees. He tossed one in Ralph's direction, failing spectacularly as the candy landed silently on the red carpet under the boy's desk. Dan seemed to decide to overlook his own mishap as he himself chose a toffee whilst staring at a big poster of _Captain America_.

 

“Who's that?” he asked with his mouth full, a surprising tinge of curiosity showing in his hushed voice, and Ralph, still mildly irked by the boy's unannounced presence, scoffed and crawled over to the sweet, peeling away the sticky wrapper in as casual and _bored_ a manner as he could muster up and popping it into his mouth, his taste buds seeming to seize up as they came into touch with the intense flavour of the squarish candy.

 

“You're joking, right?”

 

Dan finally looked at him and his eyes were wide and perplexed.

“Is he famous?”

 

And Ralph laughed.

Perhaps for the first time since his dad had packed up and left, he could leave it all behind for just a moment, could forget about crying and yelling at his mum, about being angry with everyone and irritated by everything, about the fear of his parents getting divorced, about what was going to happen to him and who would get the cat and the television, about whether his grandparents would still love him once his mum had broken up with their son, about what his classmates and friends would say and think.

 

He laughed and spent the entire afternoon telling Dan everything about his favourite superheroes.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Forgiveness is a strange creature.

Ralph had experienced its relevance first-hand, as a sort of spectator of his parents' relationship. He had seen them yell at one another during car journeys (long and short) and heard them argue about the same mundane, prosaic issues night after night, their sharp voices cutting like blades through the thin walls of his childhood bedroom, remembered how they had separated like it was yesterday, how his dad had moved out and Ralph had been _convinced_ that they were getting a divorce – and yet, he had witnessed how, though drifted apart over years of miscommunication and despite many a bad blunder, they had pulled themselves together, had decided to make peace and wipe the slate clean in the face of a dear friend's death.

So, knowing all this, why was Ralph finding it _so_ difficult to take responsibility for one stupid, childish mistake?

 

Packing up his chewed up pencils and battered notebook after a lecture that went down as memorable due to its particularly irritating lengthiness, Ralph slung his bag over his shoulder and walked slowly down the rows of seats and towards the classroom door, hoping to sidestep a comment addressing his uncharacteristic lethargy from the ever-vigilant professor as he ducked his head and tried to will himself to become invisible amidst the throng of his chattering classmates.

An unintentional sigh escaped him as he made it to the entrance and, with a barely muttered _pardon me_ , threaded his way through the crowd and past two girls who were talking animatedly between themselves (all that Ralph caught whilst passing were the words _multiple organ failure_ ).

 

Finally out in the hallway and having survived the last class of the day, he decided to stop by the small off-campus fish and chip shop before returning to the dorm room that had felt eerily empty without his best friend's hardly noticeable yet so noteworthy presence. Dan was due to return today and whilst Ralph had been out and about with Charlie when Dan had presumably dropped off his belongings in the morning, he would quite likely be back by now, and though the older man knew that an eventual confrontation was, alas, unavoidable, he was in no rush to dash towards it with open arms. He did, after all, genuinely and utterly _hate_ fighting with his best friend.

 

He indulged in a quick ( _somewhat_ satisfying) meal, more or less disregarding its flavour as he pretended to be intrigued with the football match that was playing out on the dusty screen above the bar (though, in all honesty, as soon as there was a ball involved, his brain seemed to instantly switch off in order to save energy), and drank a glass of lukewarm coke before leaving the shop, heading back at a slow pace and feeling antsy and uncertain as he (ineffectually) attempted to think up a nonchalant yet sufficient way to fix things with Dan.

 

It had been a gorgeous day but as soon as dusk crept upon the building complex, the wind picked up (as if it finally felt safe to show its unfiltered nature amidst the lurking darkness) and Ralph hunched his shoulders as he braced himself against the harsh cold as well as the weightiness of the conflict which he was approaching.

Finally entering the long, cheerless hallway that was only insignificantly warmer than the grim outside, Ralph all but tiptoed towards the friends' shared room, anticipation making his legs weak as he tried to draw out the last steps, eager to buy himself more time to _think_ when in truth, he was drawing a blank. _Just own up to your mistakes already, will you?_

But before he could muster the wantonness to acknowledge his shortcomings and _get it over with_ , he spotted Dan sitting cross-legged on the tiles outside their door, clutching his backpack and staring into space. Ralph could see from afar that he had been crying.

And just like that, no duration of arguing and ignoring and _pondering_ mattered anymore as the older man jogged towards his best friend and kneeled next to him on the frigid floor.

 

“Dan, what happened?”

 

The other looked up at his best friend, eyes red-rimmed and glossy with unshed tears, seemingly struggling to focus on Ralph as the older man laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dan swallowed.

“Do you remember when we wrote our names in the wet cement in front of your parents' house?”

 

Ralph raised his hand, worry clenching his heart as he stroked his best friend's messy hair and scanned his blue eyes with thoughtful apprehension, nodding slowly.

“Of course I remember. We must've been, what – fifteen?”

 

“Seventeen,” Dan said. “It was a couple weeks before mum died.”

 

Ralph swallowed hard.

“We wrote each other's names,” Dan continued, staring at the opposite wall as if he was addressing the damp stains on the grout, “and you crossed out _Dan_ and wrote _Campbell_ instead to piss me off.”

 

Ralph settled down next to Dan and carefully slung his arm around the other's shoulders.

“I'm sorry.”

 

Dan didn't say anything and Ralph was afraid to ask what on earth had happened. He had not seen his best friend cry in a while, had gotten used to Dan feeling everything in a numb sort of way. Seeing him like this, hurt and confused, was chilling and Ralph's heart threatened to burst in his ribcage when he hugged his friend's thin frame, shivering in the cold.

 

“Do you-,” he hesitated and cleared his throat. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

 

Dan didn't answer. He leaned his head back against the wall, hugged his knees to his chest and sighed deeply – yet he remained silent whilst the toughening wind raged on outside the rattling doors, jolting the stripped trees and flinging the writhing, washed-out leaves onto the deserted pavement, the unrelenting rain soaking, _drenching_ every inch of the eager earth and tugging on the clothes of those unfortunate souls unlucky enough to be outdoors in this merciless weather.

Just when Ralph was certain that Dan was not going to react to his admittedly tentative question, that he was not willing to talk about whatever (or whoever) had hurt him just yet, his voice rang out softly, too quiet to echo off the bare walls; so reserved in fact, that Ralph was half-convinced that the timid words had been nothing but a trick of his overstrung and alert mind.

 

“Kyle kissed me.”

 

The noisy rainfall seemed to pause for a moment, the air stagnating as their chilly surroundings appeared to lapse into silence, augmenting the repercussion of even the faintest noise – a subtle cough somewhere down the corridor, the fluttering of a bird's wings outside the window, the rustling of Dan's jeans as he shifted awkwardly.

“What?”

_Clever, Ralph._

 

Dan drew in a shaky breath and Ralph swallowed when he sensed the tears in his friend's hoarse voice.

“It was the first time, you know? That someone kissed me, I mean. Since- since _him_.” He snivelled and rubbed a sleeve over his eyes. “And I swore to myself that the next time I kiss someone, it'll be someone who loves me.”

 

Ralph felt his heart leap painfully as he turned to face Dan and enveloped him in a reassuring embrace, rubbing a hand up and down his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

 

“What is it about me that says _please_ , go ahead and walk all over me?”

 

The older man leaned back, looking Dan straight in the eye and kindly wiping the tears from his reddened cheeks.

“It's not you, Danny. It is _not you_. If anything, this is my fault for involving you in the first place.”

 

Dan shook his head rather vehemently but seemed too worked up to argue.

“I'm gonna talk to Kyle, alright?”

 

The younger man looked up at him and spoke between tearful hiccups. “No, you're gonna sh- shout at him.”

 

“So what?”

 

“Please don't shout at him. I- I really like him.”

 

Ralph scoffed but he was certainly not about to sink so low as to go behind Dan's back and do something he explicitly did _not_ want him to do – as much as he was itching to go and grab Kyle's shoulders, shake him and ask if nothing he had said to the younger man had made its way into that thick skull of his.

Dan sighed deeply and hid his face behind his sleeves, his posture slumped, defeated, as he raised his tired voice once more.

“Can we just sleep?”

 

Ralph grasped the nape of Dan's neck and cradled his head against his shoulder, nodding.

“Let's go to bed.”

 

After a moment of contemplative silence, Dan wriggled out of his best friend's arms, leaned back and stared at Ralph, eyes swollen from crying, his hair flat on one side.

“I'm sorry, you know. About last week.”

 

Ralph blinked, then smiled and hugged Dan tightly as he felt an aching warmth expanding inside him.

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

One new voicemail.

 

It was Tuesday night and over twenty-four hours had passed since Kyle had last tried to reach Dan.

He had sent the older man a few _intense_ texts, practically pleading with Dan to let him _explain_ , but the very same, after weighing up the circumstances with great hesitance, had simply shot back a short _I don't want to talk to you right now_ – a message that left no room for speculation as to whether or not he was upset but created just enough space to imply that a future conversation was in fact _possible_. Dan was not trying to be horrible and he did not _hate_ Kyle for what he did. He just needed time. To think and to calm down and to assure himself that the kiss hadn't meant a thing to him.

He wasn't very convincing.

 

Kyle had not bothered him anymore after this and Dan was left feeling even more confused and miserable. Until the other sent him a voicemail at nearly three in the morning, a message that Dan did not dare listen to.

He was sat on his bed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his thumb was hovering inches above the play button, feeling anxious and hyper-vigilant.

Why would Kyle send him a message at this time of the night? What if something was wrong? Wouldn't Dan be a fool for not at least _considering_ that it could be an emergency if somebody, a _friend_ at that, tried to contact him at this late hour?

 

Making a decision, Dan moved as silently as he could towards the end of his bed, where he knew he had stashed his headphones earlier that day, somewhere underneath the pile of pillows he had accumulated. He rummaged about for a moment, squinting his eyes as he tried to see anything at all in the dark and knocking Ralph's Gameboy off the bed in the process. It landed with a loud crash.

 

_Dammit._

 

Dan held his breath and stared across the darkened room, where he could just about make out the vague silhouette of Ralph's body under the blankets, but the other did not stir (talk about heavy sleep) and Dan curled his fingers around the cord of his headphones, exhaling triumphantly as he pulled on it sharply and finally managed to retrieve the desired prize.

He connected the device and swallowed hard before screwing his eyes shut and pressing play on the short message before he could have second thoughts.

 

“ _Hey! Hey, maaan, I'm- uhhh ...”_

 

There was a pause and Dan had to suppress a smile. Kyle was very clearly shitfaced.

 

“ _I'm at Liv's. Pick me up? Pleeease, babes, 'm tired and is really fuckin' dark, 'm not sure I know-”_

 

The recording cut off abruptly and with a sharp crackling sound, and Dan furrowed his brow and played it back again, feeling exceedingly concerned. He slipped off his headphones and stared into space, maddeningly conscious of his own heartbeat and strained breathing. What if Kyle needed help? He had sounded a lot like he was outdoors – if he attempted to walk back to campus on his own in the dark (adding rain, wind and _inebriation_ ), he might fall and hurt himself or get run over by the odd, _returning-from-a-night-shift_ car – or get mugged, ambushed in the thick, absolute darkness.

 

Before he could change his mind, Dan swung his legs over the edge of the narrow bed and pulled on the dark green hoodie that lay balled up next to his pillow, trying to find his Converse in the dark without tripping over any of Ralph's clothes that lay scattered all over the floor.

Finally managing to put on his shoes without making too much of a racket, Dan stopped and hesitated. If Ralph woke up and he was gone without explanation, his best friend would _freak_. Especially after Dan had more or less cried himself to sleep last night.

He sighed inwardly and shuffled over to his friend's bed, shaking the sleeping man's shoulder lightly.

 

“Ralph,” he whispered, “wake up.”

 

Nothing.

“Wake up, man!”

 

Ralph writhed a little for a few seconds, like he was waking from a dream, then blinked blearily and straightened himself swiftly as soon as he spotted Dan staring at him in the dark.

“What? What's wrong, what happened?!”

 

“Nothing. I've got to- I need to go help Kyle.”

 

Ralph switched on the blazing lamp on his tiny bedside table and they both winced.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

Dan sighed. He didn't have time for this.

“Kyle's drunk and he sent me a voicemail asking to pick him up.”

 

“So?”

 

“So I have to help him! He's fucking wasted, he could hurt himself!”

 

Ralph groaned and threw back the warm covers enveloping him.

“You're way too nice, Danny.”

 

Dan frowned at his best friend's attempts at finding a pair of matching socks between the rumpled folds of his scratchy quilt.

“What are you doing?”

 

Ralph stopped and looked him in the eye.

“Well, I'm not gonna fucking let you go out in the dark alone, am I?”

 


	15. Drunk Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this chapter unusually quickly and now suspect it might actually be shit.  
> Either way, thank you so much for reading and commenting ♥
> 
> Mitch, take this as an early birthday present (I hope you don't hate it). Have a good one, mate ♥

Flitting lights – neon, cheap, glitzy.

Tinsel and silver sequin spots bouncing off a tacky disco ball and spinning across the floor, the tawdry wallpaper, the unfamiliar, ecstatic faces.

Sticky soles and a repugnant taste filling his mouth.

Somebody asked why they were even having a party in the first place – _what's the occasion?_ – but Kyle felt like he didn't necessarily need a reason to get wasted these days. The ongoing, overall _ugliness_ of his life seemed like a good enough excuse to drown himself in bad liquor.

 

Looking around the increasingly deserted flat, he was fascinated by how _blurred_ his surroundings had become, distorted and out of focus. He glanced at the stiff, emerald green drink in his hand and genuinely wondered how many of those he had gulped down.

Over the past hours, Kyle had come to despise it, the stuffy, hazy space that had transformed into an almost inhospitable environment as he recalled the eventful Halloween party and how deeply relaxing it had felt to have Dan by his side (including silly skeleton onesies and smudgy face paint).

Kyle wished the older boy were here now.

_He'd probably rather gnaw off his own arm than be with you._

 

He felt ashamed. Guilty. Kyle had apologised for his mistakes before, had asked Dan's forgiveness in as sincere a manner as he could muster, shown the other respect and humility and then gone and poured it all down the drain with one thoughtless, selfish action.

Kyle felt bitter, annoyed at himself, angry with his loony ex whom he now honestly wished he had never met, because if he had not run across her, she wouldn't have turned stalker and Kyle would not have met Dan, wouldn't have kissed him and, consequently, would not be obscenely drunk and utterly unhappy now.

And _of course_ , there she was. Lily, standing at the farther end of the room and entirely ignoring Kyle's presence as she talked rather enthusiastically to _James Brooker_ of all the cunts she could be chatting up. She seemed intrigued by the blond's words and Kyle scoffed.

_Good for them. Arseholes herd together._

Opening yet another beer, he took a long drink and closed his eyes, leaning back and letting his dazed mind beguile him into dreaming up what it would be like if Dan was indeed sitting next to him on the burgundy sofa at this very moment.

 

He looked amazing, body turned fully towards Kyle, wearing his trademark hoodie and smiling, staring at him with those thoughtful blues. Dan's lips parted as he dropped his gaze to Kyle's mouth and when the younger man closed his eyes, he once again found himself standing in front of Dan who was leaning casually against the wall outside their dorm. As the younger man drew closer, Dan grabbed his hands, guiding them to his narrow hips, and Kyle ... Kyle suddenly felt _possessive_.

_Fuck it_ , he thought – he was drunk ( _plastered_ in fact) and seeing that he was doubtlessly not going to remember many of his muddled thoughts by tomorrow and Dan was probably too pissed off to ever talk to him again, now was the perfect opportunity to entertain a few exploratory reveries. If they weren't even friends, who cared if he imagined Dan wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him softly. It wasn't like any of the nebulous make-believe was going anywhere – Kyle was just examining how vivid his imagination really was.

 

He closed his eyes as they kissed. Dan's cold hands found their way into his hair and he slowly rubbed his fingertips against Kyle's scalp as small, hot breaths escaped his mouth. Kyle pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together while he dragged his lips away from Dan's and started peppering feather-light kisses along his cheekbone and towards his ear, exhaling loudly as he cupped his neck, holding on to Dan's scarf and breathing in the distinct scent of earth after rain. Kyle could feel the sun on his face and he returned to Dan's lips and kissed him gently, running a hand down his arm and interlacing their fingers, the timid autumn breeze urging them closer together.

 

Kyle had absolutely no idea exactly how many times his mind had re-enacted the vastly confusing memory-turned-fantasy but when he blinked his eyes open, he was still sprawled out on the uncomfortable sofa, a half-empty beer in his hand and an unfamiliar pair of girls power napping next to him. He stood, wavering slightly as he made a resolve and stumbled towards the brunette girl who had been fluttering her eyes at him all night and was now dancing by herself in the middle of the room. She immediately offered Kyle a generous sip of her obnoxiously fizzy vodka.

They danced for a while (if struggling to keep one's balance whilst swaying back and forth to an entirely fictional beat could be called dancing) but Kyle's thoughts were filled to the brim with _Dan_ and all he could imagine was the older man showing up at this godawful party and dancing intimately with some _stranger_ , a different pair of hands roaming all over his body, touching his face, tugging his messy hair. The mental picture made Kyle feel like he was boiling. Nobody should be allowed to touch him like that, nobody should assume the right to even _pretend_ to be good enough for Dan.

 

The dark-eyed girl looked up at Kyle, steadying herself by keeping his biceps in an iron grip while she leaned up to press their lips together – but Kyle shied away from her. _This isn't right._

She blinked at him, slowly and distractedly, and Kyle suddenly felt too hot, too boxed in, and when an intense feeling of malaise arose from the pit of his stomach, he stumbled out of the overheated flat and down the freezing staircase in a hurry, exiting the building and throwing up on a small patch of grass next to the front door.

_Look at you. You're pathetic._

 

Breathing deeply, Kyle somehow managed to fumble his phone out of his pocket and, sitting down as far away from his own puke as his wobbly legs would carry him, he sent a short voicemail to Will, propping up his throbbing head as he stuttered a few slurred words into his mobile before his last remaining ounce of willpower abandoned him rather abruptly and the device landed on the cold ground with a deafening crack. Kyle picked it up as quickly as he could bid his numb fingers to cooperate and eyed the broken screen.

_Shit._

 

He sobbed quietly. This was ridiculous, Dan did not _want him_ , especially not now that he had proved that an apology meant _nothing_ to him. And Kyle didn't want Dan, did he? Not like _that_ , anyway. He just wanted to be around him. Being around Dan made him _happy_ and more peaceful than he had ever felt.

_And you prick had to go and hurt him._

 

It was bitingly cold and Kyle, tragically underdressed, was shivering violently, his head felt like it was preparing to detonate and he was so bloody lonely. He missed Dan and his stupid hair and his stupidly big, beautiful eyes and his stupid dimples. His stupid high-pitched laugh and stupid pretentious literature bullshit and stupid _stupid_ gorgeous, heartbreaking smile.

Kyle wiped his eyes angrily and let out a cry of frustration.

 

_You fucked it up, Kyle._

_You had a beautiful thing and you fucked it up._

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

“It's fucking freezing, Dan. _I'm_ freezing. Because we're playing search and rescue for the guy _you_ should be pissed at,” Ralph complained, his words yet again creating a small, white cloud that swiftly fled into the black November night.

 

Dan sighed. “I _am_ pissed at him.”

 

“Oh yeah? Why the hell are we here then?!”

 

Dan kept shining his phone's flashlight over the footpath that was cluttered with twigs and leaves (or _tripping hazards_ as Ralph had grumbled after his foot got caught on a fallen branch) and rubbed his sleeve over his face, attempting to resuscitate his ice-cold nose. Ralph wasn't joking, it was like they were taking an inside tour of the frozen food compartment.

“Cause I don't want him to get hurt.”

 

Ralph scoffed and kicked away a small rock that proceeded to leap into the shrubbery to their left where it landed with a rustling thud. “You're not even really mad at him, are you?”

 

Taking a cautious peek at his glowering friend out of the corner of his eye, Dan sighed.

“No, I am, I am. I just-”

 

“-really like him.”

 

He exhaled heavily. “Please don't be a dick about this.”

 

Ralph huffed a humourless laugh.

“You sounded very different yesterday.”

 

“Well, I was sort of upset yesterday.”

 

“No shit.”

 

Shaking his head, Dan kept staring at the nocturnal autumn scenery, though he could see nothing but darkness further than a few feet ahead.

Ralph had a point, Dan was not necessarily _angry_ with Kyle. Much rather, he felt upset and disappointed. His newly built trust had been terribly shaken. Maybe, without thinking, he had put Kyle on a pedestal after his honest apology and the ensuing sincerity with which the boys had spoken with one another – but of course, all this did not mean that Kyle was exempt from making mistakes.

And yet, Dan could not pretend that he wasn't hurt either.

 

A gust of wind swept through the almost leafless trees and unleashed a small cascade of water droplets that pattered down on them like an icy shower and sent a cold shiver down Dan's spine. Okay, perhaps he _was_ mildly pissed off – and he had every reason to be, seeing that he had made it quite clear to Kyle that he wanted to be left alone for the time being, yet now the younger man was pulling _this stunt_ , forcing the two friends to wander through the bitter night to pick him up.

 

“How much further?” Ralph inquired moodily, prompting Dan to scan their surroundings for any distinguishing marks that would confirm they were on the right path – and sure enough, through the scraggy bushes to their right, he could vaguely make out the towering residential building that he had last set foot in on Halloween night, with Kyle as his _date_.

 

“Just down there,” he replied and they proceeded to trudge towards their destination, Ralph mumbling continuously and incoherently whereas Dan resorted to the occasional weary sigh.

As soon as the combined glow of their torches succeeded in lighting the area in front of the complex, Dan spotted Kyle's tall silhouette sitting in a miserable heap on a patch of grass, head resting heavily on his knees, looking (ironically enough) tiny and dejected. Dan instantly hurried towards the younger man, ignoring Ralph's peeved sighs as his friend jogged after him in defeat.

 

“Kyle? Are you okay?”

 

Ralph pointed his tiny blue flashlight on the scene in front of them and Kyle winced, then stared at Dan as if he was heaven-sent.

“Dan.”

 

“Yeah. Hi.”

 

“Are you ... _here_? Cause I was- I was dreamin' about you up there.” He pointed at the building behind them. “We were kissin' 'n stuff.”

 

Dan blushed furiously at the same time as Ralph descended into a coughing fit, the beam from the torch briefly flickering around the picture like a cheap light effect. Dan cleared his throat.

“Alright, let's get you back. Can you walk?”

 

“Yep. Yep, yep. I can walk. I can dance as well. You wanna dance?”

 

Dan sighed. “No, Kyle, I don't want to dance.”

 

The younger man squinnied and giggled quietly, and Ralph rolled his eyes as he helped his friend haul up the tall drunkard who promptly stumbled onto Dan with his full weight, nearly knocking them both over.

“Whoa, mate, easy.”

 

But Kyle just muttered unintelligibly and slung his arms around Dan's neck.

“G'night, guys.”

 

“Right, that's enough,” Ralph stated decisively and rather roughly yanked Kyle away from his best friend, propping him up as best he could and nodding at Dan.

They began walking back ever so slowly and Ralph dragged Kyle along quite stiffly while Dan illuminated the slippery pathway, remaining mute aside from the occasional murmured warning whenever he sighted a particularly hefty branch or a perilously sodden pile of leaves and only sporadically turning to glance at the two men. He was very much aware that Kyle was rambling on and on, aimlessly and endlessly, but tried his best to ignore the drunk talk much like Ralph seemed to have resorted to doing.

Halfway to their destination, Ralph exclaimed that he needed a break and quite hastily dumped Kyle on a frail wooden bench by the pavement, groaning loudly as he straightened his back. Dan sat silently next to Kyle, feeling tense and nervous as he glanced at the other's weary face. He looked a lot younger and much more vulnerable with his eyes shut.

“Hey, don't fall asleep, Ky.”

 

“'m not sleepin', idiot. If 'm asleep, how can I do this?”

And he proceeded to do nothing at all.

Albeit feeling increasingly exhausted as well as annoyed with the situation in its entirety, Dan had to bite back a laugh when Kyle started snoring quietly, and Ralph paused his stretching exercise, staring daggers at Dan as the very same merely shrugged apologetically.

The older man rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. “I could be in bed right now.”

 

“ _I_ could be in bed right now,” Kyle piped up and Ralph scoffed as he helped him up once again, visibly grappling with trying to put the other's long, lanky limbs in a somewhat sensible order. Kyle seemed to blissfully overlook the older man's heroic efforts as he fidgeted briefly, then suddenly turned to stare at Dan, looking remorseful and _sad_.

“I didn't wanna kiss you.”

 

Rising from the ramshackle bench, Dan blinked at Kyle in surprise, then swallowed and dropped his gaze to the ground, quickly walking past his friends. Now was not the time to talk about _that_ and he just _knew_ he was going to let Kyle off the hook way too easily if the man was gazing at him with those stupidly drunk puppy eyes.

 

“I know you hate me,” the younger boy added in an uncharacteristically meek voice and Dan stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes.

 

“I don't hate you.”

 

“No, no. I- I know you hate me, is okay.”

 

“Have it your way then, Kyle,” Dan proclaimed, throwing his hands up in despair and climbing up the slope that would lead them on the direct path to their dorm, not looking back to check how Ralph was holding up as he whipped out the phone that he had confiscated from Kyle as a precaution and dialled Will's number.

Eight rings, he didn't pick up.

_Of course he's not picking up, it's four in the bloody morning._

 

Dan inhaled deeply and tilted his head back, gazing at the tremendous, infinite cloak of stars expanding above him in its unfathomable magnitude and grace. Compared to the immenseness of the universe, he was nothing but a tiny, irrelevant light, trapped in an absolutely ridiculous situation.

 

_Maybe I should have said no to Ralph after all._

 

He closed his eyes. No. No, that wasn't right either.

Admittedly, the past weeks had been intense and trying and Dan had been forced to push himself way out of his comfort zone in order to help the younger man take up the reins in this telenovela-esque story, and yet. Dan would rather live through it all again – the anxiety and embarrassment, the ignoring and being ignored, the insecurity and feeling miserable and crying his eyes out – than not know Kyle at all.

Now though, Dan was on edge, bloody knackered and feeling mildly more irritable than usual as well as _really damn annoyed_ with Kyle's drunken antics. All he wanted was to get the man back to his dorm, crawl into his own cosy bed and sleep until the afternoon – or, alternatively, as long as Ralph would let him.

 

Dan turned on his heel and walked briskly back to where Ralph was still attempting to clamber up the muddy track with Kyle's limp form in tow and wordlessly grabbed the drunk man's free arm, slinging it over his shoulder and staring straight ahead while they continued on the last stretch towards their temporary home. A hesitant side glance at his best friend confirmed what Dan had predicted – Ralph looked curious and mildly concerned, seemed rather eager to say something but appeared to resolve to leave it for another, less _agitated_ time. And, truth be told, Dan was profoundly grateful for his friend's silence.

 

They somehow managed to half pull, half push the now semi-conscious Kyle into the eerily (and naturally) abandoned hallway and towards his room, shushing him occasionally when he underestimated the volume of his own mindless words, and Ralph struggled to keep him somewhat upright whilst patting down his pockets for anything they could use as a key. When he came back empty-handed, Dan started knocking on the familiar sticker-covered door, audibly enough for Will to (hopefully) wake up and take over the responsibility of looking after his intoxicated friend but not so noisily that the three men would attract an angry mob.

Nothing. Not the slightest peep.

 

Dan kept on trying his hardest to rouse the sleeping man, alternating between softly rapping his knuckles on the thin wood and calling Will's name in as hushed a voice as possible, straining his ears to pick up on the faintest noise, yet still hearing nothing but the wind in the trees they had long since left behind. He looked back at his friend with a contrite expression and they made eye contact for a few long seconds (whilst Kyle looked a lot like he was falling asleep leaning against the wall). Dan could see from Ralph's sullen expression that the realisation hit them both at the same time:

“There's only one option now.”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Shaking his head wearily, Ralph observed Dan attempting to pull Kyle's hoodie over his head without simultaneously removing his T-shirt, trying to feign some level of patience whilst the drunk man squirmed and giggled like a child. Dan was clearly getting increasingly frustrated with Kyle as well as the ludicrous situation they were _still_ engaged in (instead of falling into that sweet, blissful sleep they were both aching for), which was more than obvious from the way his jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense.

 

“Kyle, for fuck's-” Dan stepped back, the hoodie now caught around Kyle's elbows, and took a deep breath. “I'm gonna fucking lose my shit now.”

 

Ralph sighed and, giving Dan an encouraging pat on the back, approached Kyle, swiftly tugging off his hoodie (reminding himself to be _gentle_ ) and removing his suspiciously sticky shoes rather heartily. Kyle hardly seemed to notice, much less mind.

“Right! Time to sleep,” Ralph exclaimed whilst Kyle continued gawking at Dan out of bleary eyes (showcasing the sort of enchantment one might feel upon fist laying eyes on a great artist's masterpiece) and clumsily forced him to lie down on the other's bed, throwing the rough linen blankets over his body and hoping he would survive the night – Ralph would rather prefer to avoid the _fun_ of explaining exactly why he was sharing a bed with his best friend whilst the other was occupied by the corpse of one of their fellow students.

 

“Goodnight, Ky,” Dan sighed weakly and connected the other's slightly damaged phone to the charger by his bedside table.

 

“Hey ...”

 

Dan glanced at Kyle who was staring at the older boy with a strangely sober expression, yet seemed to struggle deeply with the words fumbling around his hazy brain.

“I don't- I don't wanna lose you.”

 

Ralph felt his throat tighten as he watched Kyle lean up on one elbow, swaying as he exhaled shakily.

“Please, 'm so sorry.”

 

Dan's eyes fluttered shut and he cleared his throat.

“We'll talk about it another time.”

He didn't so much as glance at the other again as he escaped into the bathroom and Ralph peeked at Kyle who was staring fixedly at the closed door, an intensely _desperate_ sadness drowning his dark eyes. And though Ralph did certainly not _want to_ feel bad for the younger man (if it could be at all avoided), something about the way Kyle barely managed to stay upright whilst looking like he was seconds away from diving head first into a crying fit, tugged rather painfully at his heartstrings.

Gasping out a noise somewhere between a huff and a moan, Kyle let himself fall back against Dan's pillows, curling up slightly and squeezing his eyes shut. He was fast asleep within two minutes.

 

When Dan finally emerged from his hideout a few moments later, he glanced ever so fleetingly at the slumbering boy who was by now snoring peacefully (and drooling on Dan's favourite pillow), then looked quite helplessly at his best friend who was sitting cross-legged on his own bed, smiling and patting the vacant space next to him invitingly.

Dan plonked himself down with a sigh and shook his head.

“I'm kinda pissed at him but I'm glad he didn't get run over.”

 

Ralph chuckled quietly and threw an arm around Dan's shoulders, squeezing his friend's slender frame supportingly before he lay down with a contented groan, trying to make himself comfortable and _finally_ get some sleep.

Dan, however, did not move an inch, much rather looked as if he was rooted to the spot, and when Ralph sat up to glance at him once more, he suddenly felt strangely scant of breath. Dan, sitting on the edge of the bed as if he had lost all sense of time, was gazing at Kyle's sleeping form with a deeply exasperated expression, yet a tender, hesitant smile played on his lips.

 

And it hit Ralph then and there.

 

 

_He has feelings for him._

 

 

Sensing a heavy lump slowly rising in his throat, he reached out to touch Dan's elbow lightly and when his friend turned to look at him, cheeks flushed and eyes filled with worry, he smiled reassuringly.

“He's okay now. Get some sleep.”

 

Dan nodded, his exhaustion finally appearing to catch up with him as he slipped under the covers next to his friend and drew the coarse blanket tightly around himself. Ralph found Dan's cold hands under the covers and squeezed them gently, feeling sad and elated at the same time as he looked into those big, vulnerable eyes, seemingly filled – nearly  _bursting_ – with barely concealed emotions. He swallowed hard.

 

_Please._

_Please let this end well._

 


	16. Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to everyone who's still reading this story (for some reason) - I hope you're well and happy!  
> There's a lot of dialogue in this chapter, hope it's not annoying (please let me know if it is!)  
> Thank you so much for reading and as always, kudos and comments mean so much to me (and just about every other writer out there!) ♥♥

Kyle's _resurrection_ was a rather drawn-out procedure.

Being woken up by the rays of the rising sun after no more than three hours of light sleep, Dan felt like he had participated in a nocturnal marathon and was genuinely confused as to whether or not the ludicrous events which he remembered had actually taken place, but one glance across the room sufficed to confirm that his bed was indeed occupied by a slumbering _ailurophile_ – a word that he had googled in a vague attempt to distract his restless mind (other search keywords had included but not been limited to _baby goats_ , _different types of clouds_ and _Colin Firth_ ).

Albeit feeling weary to the bone and wanting nothing more than to shut out the outside world for a few more hours, Dan was much too antsy to go back to sleep, especially after Ralph had reluctantly left for his first class around nine o'clock. He had rather uncharacteristically offered to skip _Musical Theory_ in order to stand by his friend but Dan feared that the impending _talk_ was going to be awkward enough without Ralph glaring holes into Kyle's skull – and he did not need a prompter.

 

With the break of dawn, the breathtaking wind had made way for a younger, much more mellow breeze that rode in on the fluffy, popcorn-like cloudlets that littered the sky (and could, as Dan had found out, hint at an approaching downpour) and the last remaining leaves had finally fallen and settled on the damp ground, where their expunged radiance drank up the sun's tender rays and bathed the campus grounds in a modest beauty that sounded the bell for the advancing winter frost.

Dan was sat on Ralph's bed, leaning against the wall and paging through Isherwood's _A Single Man_ , but he could barely focus on the undoubtedly compelling novel since his eyes kept inadvertently returning to the unmoving form of his softly snoring friend, examining the other's bare minimum movements until he abandoned his reading with a huff.

_Guess there's only one single man my mind can focus on right now._

 

Sighing listlessly, Dan buried his face in the bunched blankets that he had heaped up to hide behind should Kyle's eyes suddenly snap open and hugged his knees close to his chest. What the hell was he supposed to say when the other finally woke up?

_Oh, hi, your hangover is probably cracking your skull in half, so just a quick update – you texted me at three in the morning, told me you dreamed about us kissing, wanted to dance and asked my forgiveness for that thing you did the other day and that I'm not at all over yet and oh, that's my bed you're lying in right now. Good fucking morning._

Not all too comforting.

Dan's head was already swimming with unspoken thoughts and Kyle had not even moved so much as an inch, and so the older man resorted to staring at the small gap in the curtains that allowed for a gentle beam of sunlight to sneak into the room, wavering slightly in time with the idle movements of the heavy fabric. A whirl of dust danced eagerly around the patient light and Dan watched as it was swirled up by the most subtle air movement like a playful glitter cloud.

 

“Oh, fuck,” suddenly sounded a hoarse voice from the other side of the room, uncomfortably loud in the half-empty space and after hours of anticipatory silence, and Dan flinched and instinctively pulled the covers tightly around his shoulders as Kyle started squirming, struggling to keep his eyes open and fighting unsuccessfully with the sheets that were tangled awkwardly around his long limbs.

“What the- what fuckin' time is it?”

 

“Around noon,” Dan replied meekly and Kyle immediately sat up in bed and stared at him, seemingly finding it hard to process Dan's words, his presence and the strange surroundings he had woken up in all at once. The only response he managed to come up with was a deeply pained moan as he cradled his head in his hands.

“Why am I here?”

 

“What's the last thing you remember?”

 

Kyle blinked frantically and shook his head. “Being stupid enough to drink Absinthe.”

 

Dan huffed. “Ewan McGregor can relate.”

 

“What?”

 

“Haven't you seen- never mind. Ralph and I picked you up last night.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“What do you mean _why_? You _asked_ me to.” Dan furrowed his brow. “You sent me a message, remember?”

 

Looking genuinely confused, Kyle ran a nervous hand through his messy hair. “What? I never- I texted _Will_.”

 

Dan scoffed. “I wish you did. But here we are.”

 

Gawking at the older man, a mildly horror-stricken look on his sickly features, the confusion in Kyle's bloodshot eyes slowly transformed into an interesting mixture of realisation, embarrassment and guilt.

“God, I- I _meant to_ text Will, I swear. My finger must've slipped.”

 

Dan couldn't help but snort. _My finger slipped_ sounded like the dumbest excuse anyone had ever come up with but knowing Kyle it was actually an imaginable and plausible scenario.

“All that chaos cause your finger slipped.” He shook his head, huffing. “Your life is becoming a terrible caricature of itself.”

 

Staring at him with a puzzled expression, Kyle inhaled deeply, as if preparing himself for a plunge.

“What else did I say?” he inquired suspiciously, “Or _do_?”

 

Dan could feel himself blush as his level of nervousness rose infinitely. “Nothing. You were drunk, some gibberish left your mouth. But nothing noteworthy.”

_Coward._

 

Kyle looked largely unconvinced. “Why don't I believe that at all?”

 

_He can see right through you._

“Well. I- I mean-” the older man hesitated, sighed. “You apologised. For- you know.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Dan wrung his hands, all too conscious of the tension thickening around them as he avoided looking at the other man who had fallen utterly silent.

_Go on, say something._

But Kyle beat him to it.

“I should go.”

 

Looking up, a sinking feeling rose in the pit of Dan's stomach. Kyle looked flustered and despondent as he dragged his discarded hoodie towards him and pulled it over his head as if in slow-motion, wincing and letting out an anguished grunt when the narrow beam of light that slipped through the curtains roamed over his face. He pulled on his white trainers, tucked the laces under the tongue of the shoe instead of tying them up properly and rose slowly, stumbling and pressing the heel of his hand against his temple. Dan pushed the protective sheets to the side and quickly replaced their reassuring warmth with Ralph's loose-knit cardigan as he stood too, blinking when tiny black stars started fluttering across his vision.

 

“Wait,” he said haltingly and Kyle looked down at him in nervous anticipation.

 

They were standing two feet apart, looking silently into each other's eyes and wearing their hearts on their sleeves for each other to dissect. It felt rather close, in more than proximity, and Dan couldn't help but let his mind return to the last time they had stood like this, couldn't help mentally revisiting the sensation of their lips colliding softly. His stomach did a funny little flip and his head swam like a lost petal atop a raging current, the secret memory sending an unwelcome shiver up and down his arms that Dan tried to rub away through his scratchy sleeves as he tried to find the words, _any_ words to express his swirling emotions. But yet again, Kyle seemed to settle his thoughts first.

 

“I'm not sure what I said last night,” he started, staring at his shoes as if they held the solution to all his problems, “but it doesn't really matter, does it? You already know better than to trust me.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, somehow managing to mess it up even further. “Which obviously doesn't mean I'm not sorry. I am, truly. I just don't wanna sound like I make a habit of throwing around words like they don't mean anything.”

 

Sincerity was very clearly visible in his eyes and Dan nodded slowly. Whether carefully fabricated or spoken with utter honesty, Kyle always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“I know.”

 

A heavy silence fell over the room as they both stared at the floor, the less than tasteful curtains, the humid stains on the grey walls – pretending that anything and everything was more intriguing, more important than the presence of the other. Dan fidgeted with the seam of his black T-shirt, channelling all his nervous energy into tugging on a loose thread, and he swallowed hard as he finally made a decision.

“I do accept your apology, you know?”

 

Kyle stared at him, doubting but _hopeful_.

“You- you do?”

 

Dan sniffled and crossed his arms. “You know, I- I struggle sometimes, with- with people. Just ... _generally_ , I guess. But that doesn't mean I'm not making an effort. I want to trust you but you have to understand- you just-” He took a deep breath. “You hurt my feelings. And I can't just brush it off, stuff like this. It's gonna stick for a while.”

 

Kyle nodded thoughtfully. He looked guilty and upset and Dan sighed and shyly, carefully, reached out to grasp the very end of Kyle's sleeve in his hand in a small, reconciliatory gesture.

“'m not sure if you remember but you said you didn't wanna lose me last night,” Dan murmured and looked at Kyle, almost inquisitively and feeling an unmistakable heat spreading across his cheeks. He swallowed down his embarrassment. “I don't wanna lose you either. So if, um- if you're okay with it, I still wanna be friends.”

 

Kyle let out a long, audible breath and closed his eyes. “Jesus, Dan, of course I'm okay with it.”

 

The older man nodded, feeling relieved and nervous, and he smiled tightly. “Just ... a bit more space from now on?”

 

“Yes,” Kyle stuttered, “yes, of- of course. Anything.”

 

Scanning the kind face that had grown into a symbol of reassurance, Dan slowly shifted his hand and interlaced their fingers loosely and as Kyle looked down at their entwined hands, he finally gave Dan that bright, heart-warming smile that the other man had missed more than he cared to admit and that made him feel like everything was going to be just fine.

Kyle shook his head, a sense of urgency in his dark eyes.

“Dan, I-”

 

Their gentle, reconciliatory moment was interrupted quite blatantly as the door was unlocked with more force than strictly necessary and burst open with all but maniacal strength, and Dan yelped and unconsciously tightened his grip on Kyle's hand as he came eye to eye with his friend Woody who stood in the doorway looking like a man on a mission as he scrutinised the two boys, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Kyle immediately let go of Dan and took a step back, his calves hitting the bed frame as recognition dawned on his face.

 

“It's you.”

 

“Huh?” Dan inquired as Woody kicked the door shut and sauntered over to them. “You know each other?”

 

Kyle swallowed. “ _Fundamentals of Rhythm_. He broke the drum kit last week.”

 

“Not my fault they've not got a decent one,” Woody scoffed and Dan snorted.

If there was one thing he could quite rightly claim when it came to Chris Wood, it was that, apart from being incredibly passionate about drumming, he was rather short-tempered (in an amusing, non-threatening way). Yet apart from being short-tempered, Woody was also a very loyal and reliable friend with a sunny aura and an appreciable sense of humour (who didn't seem to waste much thought on his clothing in relation to the weather, seeing as he was currently wearing gym shorts and a short-sleeved jersey). Though he was quite a bit shorter than both Dan and Kyle, his presence seemed bigger and more confident as he stood next to his friend protectively, hands on his hips and studying Kyle's face closely.

 

“Why exactly are you here then?” Dan attempted to lighten the mood, taking pity on Kyle who was being inspected like a panda at the zoo.

 

“Ralph asked me to check up on you.”

 

“Course he did. Well, if Kyle and I ever need a babysitter ...”

 

“Didn't know you were talking kids already,” Woody shot back and smiled at Dan sweetly, ignoring his death glare as he looked Kyle up and down. “You look like shit.”

 

“Oh. Thanks.”

 

Woody nodded and glanced at Dan, looking very much ready to get down to action. “You need help throwing him out?”

 

Dan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm not sure what Ralph told you but we're good. Right?” He turned to Kyle for confirmation and the younger man smiled tiredly.

 

“Good!” Woody exclaimed and clapped his hands. “You coming to practice tonight then?”

 

Dan raised one eyebrow. “Have I ever come to practice?”

 

“No. Doesn't mean I'll stop asking though.”

 

“The fact that I'd rather die than stand on a stage doesn't seem to faze you.”

 

“Practice?” Kyle piped up inquisitively and Woody threw him another suspicious glance.

 

Dan sighed. “They're trying to start a band. Hey, you should take Kyle, he plays synth.”

 

“I know he plays synth, we don't need synth. We got Charlie. I'm asking _you_ to come.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes and Kyle suddenly looked like he was bursting with curiosity. He shuffled closer towards the bickering men, seeming to throw his caution to the wind. “What do _you_ play?”

 

“I don't-”

 

“He sings.”

 

“I don't sing.”

 

“Voice of an angel, I'm telling ya,” Woody said, grinning as Dan flushed deeply.

 

“No way,” Kyle exclaimed and beamed at them, “can you get any more-”

 

“Dreamy?” the long-haired man interjected and sniggered, making Dan believe that he would quite happily sink into the floor just about now.

“Come along then, Kyle. Maybe he'll sing for _you_.”

The rest of his life surrounded by gravel – it didn't sound all too bad.

 

Kyle looked at them both with a hopeful expression and Dan felt a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat. “I'll pass, thanks. Kyle, surely you should be heading back? Wouldn't wanna worry Will.”

 

The younger man blinked, then scoffed. “My actual corpse could be lying on the floor next to him and he genuinely wouldn't notice.”

 

Dan gave him a distraught look and Kyle cleared his throat as he seemed to catch on to the insinuation. “But yeah, you're probably right.”

He looked around the room and seemed quite lost for a moment before he inhaled at length, nodded at Woody and glanced at Dan with hesitancy and hope in his eyes.

“Um, will I see you later? Or not, if you don't-”

 

“I'll come along, actually,” Dan proclaimed curtly, snagged his keys off Ralph's desk and pulled on his mud-caked Converse. He was going to have to clean those eventually.

“Let's go.”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Woody was rather reluctant to let them go – he seemed to take his _temp job_ as Dan's bodyguard quite seriously and Kyle was impressed to see that Ralph's over-protectiveness appeared to be nearing its peak.

The rather short walk back to Kyle's own room was mainly covered in silence. Pale sunlight filtered through the dirty windows and left ribbons of warmth accompanying their stroll, perfectly symmetrical, narrow squares on the dark tiles that gave the long, boring hallway a boisterousness it surely did not deserve to adorn itself with. It was a mild day, for sure one of the last they would get to enjoy this year, and Kyle struggled to overlook his splitting headache and impending nausea as they continued walking, slowly and quietly. It was _nice_.

He glanced at Dan every now and then out of the corner of his eye. The other man looked tired, the dark circles around his eyes betraying a weariness that went beyond a single sleepless night and as much as Kyle was itching to make sure that the older boy was okay and thus hush his own budding concerns, he did not want to open yet another can of worms right after they had become reconciled – _again_.

_Small talk it is then._

 

“So, uh ...” He cleared his throat and Dan looked at him expectantly. “You're friends with Woody.” Dan nodded and Kyle laughed sarcastically. “Well, it was nice knowing you.”

 

“He's a big teddy bear, I don't know why you're scared of him.”

 

“You would be scared too if you'd seen what he did to that poor drum kit.”

 

Dan laughed outright and Kyle smiled, a deep feeling of _belonging_ making his heart swell. Oh, how he wanted his life to be filled with that sweet sound, absolutely _stuffed_ with it. Crammed to the brim until there was no space left for any kind of negativity.

“He _is_ genuinely nice. He's just ... passionate about drumming.”

 

Kyle chuckled. “I know, I know. I believe you.”

They had reached the door to Kyle's room and the younger man furrowed his brow, his eyes skimming across the dozens of stickers that had accumulated on the wooden surface over time when a thought crossed his mind.

“Why didn't you just dump me here last night instead of dragging me to yours?”

 

“We couldn't find your keys and Will wouldn't open up.”

 

“My keys are in my- wait, shit, where's my bag?”

 

Dan shook his head. “Didn't have one when we picked you up.”

 

Dragging a hand down his face and sighing, Kyle started rapping his knuckles on the wood. “Dammit. I must've left it at Liv's.”

 

The door swung open quickly and a half-naked Will beamed at them, bright orange toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and big headphones covering his ears. Kyle could make out the faint hoot of a saxophone and he rolled his eyes as Dan smiled a warm, lopsided smile.

“Right. Good to be back.”

 

Will removed his headphones and attempted to speak around his toothbrush.

“Huh?”

 

“You doing twenty-four hours of Sonny Rollins again?” Kyle asked, “Or why didn't you open the door for Dan last night?”

 

“Which door?”

 

“This door.”

 

“Oh. Dan?”

 

“Yeah, this guy right here,” Kyle replied and pointed at Dan who waved at the older man shyly. “He took me back here last night but you didn't seem to care enough to open up.”

 

“Apologies for not caring about my best friend, Dan.”

Will grinned, then shrugged at Kyle and turned around, waltzing confidently into the bathroom and shutting the door as he started whistling in tune with the music.

 

“Yeah, love you too,” Kyle scoffed and turned to look at Dan who was clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “You wanna come in?”

 

Dan peered into the room with subtle curiosity but shook his head and buried his hands in the pockets of his cardigan.

“I should head back. Ralph's gonna be in soon and-”

 

“If you're not there, he'll come straight here and slap my brains out, I get it.”

 

“He's a cautious man.”

 

Kyle shook his head and smiled. “He's a good friend.”

Dan returned the smile and looked at the floor and Kyle cleared his throat. “By the way, you totally called me _Ky_ last night. Twice.” He grinned and Dan blushed deeply.

 

“Thought you didn't remember anything,” the shorter man mumbled and scratched his arm.

 

“I remember the important stuff.”

 

“Well, do you remember asking me to dance?” Dan inquired and his challenging smirk prompted every last drop of blood to rush from Kyle's head.

 

“Oh my God, I'm-”

 

“It's okay,” Dan laughed, “you were hammered.”

 

“Yeah,” Kyle stuttered, “yeah, of course. Absolutely.”

 

Glancing down the corridor, a salient smile still lingering on his face, Dan inhaled deeply. “Right. Uh, see you soon? Maybe we can hang out tomorrow or something.”

 

Kyle nodded, trying to regain his composure. “Yeah. Let's do that. I'll um- I'll text you. On purpose this time.”

 

Dan chuckled and nodded and Kyle really wanted to hug him and hold him and never let him go. Instead, he smiled and mirrored the other's pose by shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet awkwardly.

“Right.”

 

“Right.”

 

“See you soon, freckles.”

 

“Yeah. See ya, Ky,” Dan answered with a small laugh, waved at the other once more and shuffled slowly down the hallway. Kyle gazed after him, waiting patiently until Dan's slender form had disappeared around the corner before he shut the door with a weary exhale. He listened to the shower running and Will singing passionately in the tiny en-suite bathroom as he toed off his shoes and finally let his crushing tiredness consume his floundering thoughts. Kyle stood absolutely still for a moment, shut his eyes in forced relaxation and tried to put an end to his nausea and skull-crushing headache through sheer willpower before he dared to inspect his dirty jeans and once white, suspiciously stained T-shirt. He lifted a corner of the soft fabric and sniffed at it. _Jesus_ , he was going to have to hop in the shower and scrub his skin with a steel wool sponge as soon as Will was done with his empirically lengthy beauty care.

 

As he stared into space and ran a hand through his knotted hair, everything seemed to hit him all at once – he had made Dan wander through the cold, dark night just to pick up his sorry ass, had deeply inconvenienced him and his best friend as well as embarrassed himself, and had most probably said and done much more humiliating shit than Dan was leading on. He had unconsciously forced himself on the two men, had actually slept in Dan's bed and left behind a _mess_.

But if he overlooked how much of a twat he had been for a moment, the morning (despite its nervous energy) had also granted him the sweet reconciliation that Kyle had not dared to hope for. He felt like he could _breathe_ again.

A soft knock on the door jolted Kyle out of his thoughts and he cleared his throat and blinked himself back into the present as he pulled it open swiftly.

 

“Did you forget someth- it's you.”

 

Lily smiled. “It's me! Hi!”

 

Kyle briefly hoped he was having some sort of hungover hallucination but unfortunately, Lily was quite real and she was leaning against the door frame like this was exactly where she belonged, one hand buried in the pocket of her leather jacket and smiling at him sweetly. She pursed her painted lips when he didn't return the smile, then casually slid a small backpack off her shoulder. His backpack.

“Looks like you forgot this at Liv's yesterday.”

 

“Looks like it,” Kyle answered curtly as he snatched the rucksack from her hands. She had probably been through its contents at least twice already and had quite possibly written an alphabetical register of his belongings.

“Cheers, have a good one,” he added and tried to shut the door on her but she managed to half squeeze through the gap and put a hand on his arm. Their eyes met and Kyle felt goosebumps creeping up his arms as he detected the most exaggerated spark of _concern_ in her green eyes.

“Kyle, baby, we should talk.”

 

“We really shouldn't.”

 

She sighed. “I'm just trying to protect you.”

 

“From what?”

 

She took her time, clearly hoping that her silence would charge the air with a tension that would intensify the impact of her answer. She was good but so obvious.

“From _Dan_.”

 

Kyle snorted. “Yeah, you better. He's suspiciously nice.”

 

Lily shook her head sadly and dropped her gaze to the floor as if she were searching for the very words which she had surely prepared and memorised like the script of a bad TV drama.

“Ky,” she looked up and studied his face with her piercing eyes, “I talked to your mate James last night.”

 

Freeing himself from her firm grip, Kyle huffed and took a small step back, crossing his arms in defiance. He _knew_ he had seen them together, though he had wondered if his inebriated mind and fuzzy memory could have possibly played a trick on him. “He's not my mate and I'm not interested in what he has to say. Oh, and don't call me _Ky_. Now, if you please ...”

 

“I care about you, Ky, I really do. _He_ doesn't. Dan doesn't care about anyone but himself and he's not the sweet and innocent guy you think you see in him.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, hoping to put her off, but Lily disregarded the clearly hostile sentiment as she resumed her rehearsed monologue.

“He's not a good person. And if you care at all what people think about you, you should stay the hell away from him.”

 

Kyle furrowed his brow. She had laid out the bait and he was foolish enough to walk right into her trap. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Lily closed the distance between them as if she were preparing to console Kyle and put on a regretful expression as she reached up to once again lay a comforting hand on his arm.

“He pretended to be in a relationship with a _married man_. And when the guy rejected him, he went and told his wife the same lie in order to break them up.”

Kyle swallowed as his ex shook her head in feigned indignation.

“Dan Smith is a liar and a home wrecker.”

 


	17. Prince Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - here's what really happened.  
> Love you all ♥

Whenever Dan relived his first meeting with Jack Ede, his mind tended to gloss over the story and turn the facts into a scene that would go rather nicely with a tacky romantic drama (in which his ex-boyfriend would be portrayed by a young Hugh Grant who, for once, did not turn out to be the Prince Charming everybody was rooting for).

 

The events that still affected Dan's day-to-day life in a way he could not have foreseen, had taken place about two and a half years ago when the boy was hitting the books to prepare for his A levels, struggling not to yield under the pressure of other people's expectations, fears for the future, grappling with his mum's passing and an (unfortunately) unsurprising mental health diagnosis that was followed by new doctors, new meds, a new weight to carry on his shoulders.

Dan wanted to avoid studying at home. His dad had not long ago returned to work and the young man could not bear to spend even a single moment alone in their flat, invariably felt as if his eardrums were going to burst from the emotions piling up around him, sparked by all the little meaningful things that Mrs Smith had left behind like untouched relics – her well-worn trainers, her _Penguin Classics_ collection, the photo album which she had been trying to fill right until her last day and that still lay open on the desk in her study, surrounded by colourful photographs immortalising happier times. But above all, it was the haunting nothingness that seemed to smother Dan; the hollowness where she used to be.

So he fled to the library (not the one closest to home but the one down in Swiss Cottage that looked rather peculiar and placed second-hand books on sale for fifty pence), simply because he did not want to chance running into anybody who had known his mum, anyone who might pity or patronise him, tell him that his mother _lived on in him_ and that he had to try to look on the bright side and focus on the good things.

There was no such thing as good grief.

 

Dan did not study nearly as much as he knew he should. He had always been an above-average student, though while his relatives had attributed his good grades to as vague and bottomless a term as _intelligence_ , the young man had merely shrugged and pointed out that he really quite enjoyed _learning_. Yet after his mum died, it was difficult to focus his anguished mind on something so trivial as equations, analysing poetry or the French Revolution – who cared about the bloody _Bastille_. So instead, he wandered blindly around the aisles, grabbing books at random and carrying them back to a wobbly table in a deserted corner of the room, leafing through them lethargically and staring at the pages as if they were blank.

 

And then he ran into Jack, figuratively speaking.

Dan was stood in the middle of the expansive _Science of Art_ section when his last ounce of willpower abandoned him and he dropped the remarkable pile of tomes he was attempting to balance in his arms. Jack walked past at this very moment, saw the mishap and stopped to help Dan pick up the books. He was dressed in an incredibly well-fitting button-down shirt, a warm smile shone on his handsome face and the sight of his stubbled jaw and deep green eyes made Dan flush as the man regarded him thoughtfully.

To be fair, it was not as if they exchanged a single glance and instantly decided to dedicate the rest of their lives to each other. The two men initially struck up a conversation because Jack quite plainly informed Dan that the weighty tome on the lifework of Pablo Picasso that he had picked out was _basically shit_ and that he could recommend a much more insightful and intriguing work. Dan laughed at the blunt remark and Jack, after rising above the embarrassment about blurting out his unsolicited opinion, joined in and introduced himself, offering to buy coffee and sit down with Dan at his solitary table to tell him more about his favourite Picasso picture book.

They talked animatedly about their surprisingly similar taste in art until Jack glanced at his watch and realised that he had missed his train home by an hour and a half, and before he hurried off, they made plans to meet up again two days later – same spot, same time. And whilst Dan's sorrows certainly didn't forthwith _magically_ dissolve, he went home that evening with a soft glow on his cheeks and a hesitant hopefulness in his heart.

 

What would always remain in Dan's memory as an unstable, intense relationship was a thoroughly programmed train wreck preceded by coffee shop rendezvous, hours of silent togetherness at the library and trips to Waterstones that ended in Jack _insisting_ on gifting Dan an almost indecent amount of books until they gradually expanded their dates to short and long walks all around Primrose Hill. The more time they spent together chattering about anything and everything they deemed interesting, the more times Jack made him laugh and his dashing smile and gorgeous eyes made his insides twist pleasantly, the more Dan realised that he was truly and utterly in love with the older man.

Jack was charming in an agreeably unobtrusive way, he was funny and intelligent and they could talk for hours about Stanley Kubrick films and peculiar renaissance paintings. He made Dan believe that he had something special to offer to the world, never made him feel like a child, always let him speak his mind and did not go out of his way to praise his knowledge of certain matters which Dan knew his older relatives claimed were entirely unappealing to his age band.

 

After the breakup, Dan had often pondered whether his confusion and anger had made him stumble recklessly into something he was not emotionally ready for, if his dad putting up a wall between them had fuelled his need for _closeness_ and pushed him into the arms of the first person who was inclined to show him so much as a hint of affection. Whether Jack had sensed his torment, had recognised how lost he felt, and consciously chosen to take advantage of his vulnerability when he initiated that first messy kiss and took him home afterwards, slipped his hands under Dan's T-shirt and rested them over his racing heart; whether Jack had known that moving their relationship forward was a foolproof way of tying Dan tightly to his own life.

There was no use speculating now – too many factors played into the wordless heartbreak that his very first relationship had left him with and Dan would probably never find out at which point he had very deliberately started to overlook all that was obviously wrong with it. He had wanted to believe so desperately that just for once in his life, _one_ bloody thing could turn out to be exactly what he needed, and the young man could not hold back the self-deprecating feelings of foolishness and naivety that flooded his senses whenever he remembered the utter betrayal he had felt.

 

Back then, the preservation of his self-chosen, blissful ignorance had included bottling up his own concerns about the older man's firm determination to keep their _liaison_ a secret, and even though Dan thought Jack was being overcautious, he tried and tried to convince himself that the other was simply worried about coming out, about being stared at and judged vigorously for the considerable age gap that yawned between the two. Dan willed himself to be patient and indulging but he was _so in love_ and wanted to declare his feelings, openly and impenitently, wanted to show the world how happy he and Jack were together and that they complemented each other perfectly. The notion that somebody really _wanted him_ was so foreign to Dan that he felt the need to seek confirmation from the outside in order to accept the truth within himself.

 

For a while and to a certain degree, Dan relished the secrecy, the hidden dates, the nonchalant public interactions that turned into tender embraces as soon as the door snapped shut, the reunions in ensconced spaces that nobody else seemed to have discovered just yet – it was hair-raising and breathtaking, it was something that belonged entirely to Dan. But lying snugly underneath the pride and passion was also an overwhelming feeling of guilt. He had not yet told his dad about the relationship, seeing as, while he certainly wanted to, Dan could pretty much _script_ exactly how Mr Smith was going to respond to the news – and it was most probably going to be anything but small talk.

Dan had let Ralph in on the secret as a sort of _dress rehearsal_ and attempting to build up his courage, but his best friend had reacted with much more apprehension than Dan had hoped he would and ever since, whenever the issue came up, Ralph asked reams and reams of _questions_ , wanted to know everything about the _mystery boyfriend_ , wanted to talk to him and make sure he wasn't some sort of con artist. Dan had even caved and asked Jack to meet his best friend simply because Ralph had been chewing his ear off for longer than he could endure but the older man had insisted that he was not ready to make their relationship public. And who was Dan to tell him that he had to be? They had time, didn't they?

 

And so it came that hasty dates, stolen kisses and secret hookups became a part of Dan's everyday life, aspects of it that very slowly poisoned his sense of self-worth as he tried to take them in his stride and simply accept that, if he really _did_ love Jack as much as he claimed, he was going to have to _wait_.

But he needed _more_. He wanted to _be more_ , more than somebody's secret. More than someone who had to be hidden away and denied, somebody Jack could not possibly admit to being involved with. He was sick of being so agonisingly close to grasping the metaphorical silver lining but unable to bypass those last few inches, no matter how hard he tried.

Dan was scared to talk to Jack about his worries but at the end of the day, the older man would have to recognise that his lover only wanted more because his feelings were deep and genuine, wouldn't he? Dan wanted the relationship to work and he needed Jack to give him a sign, any sign at all that the love was mutual.

So he plucked up the courage to go to his boyfriend's place, nervous and afraid but determined to make him _understand_ , but before Dan even had a chance to open his mouth and fight for what he cared so deeply about, something happened that explained and shattered everything in a matter of seconds. All the concealment and shame, the countless stolen moments of intimacy and devotion, the dismissal and caginess, elucidated in such a straightforward, destructive fashion.

 

An entire world of hopes and plans and grand emotions crumbling into dust the very second Jack's fiancée opened the door.

 


	18. Rear Window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so very soft.  
> Thank you so much for reading - it truly means the world to me.  
> ♥♥

Kyle and Dan were sitting silently on the generous marble sill in the latter boy's unusually tidy room, the tall windows wide open and their fingers curled around cardboard cups filled with hot, fragrant coffee. Their eyes followed the few students strolling down the well-trodden paths and chattering eagerly in the pleasant sun, wrapped up in warm coats and colourful scarves – the scene was tranquil, the sky serene, and though the window board was rather uncomfortable and Kyle positively freezing in the chilly breeze, Dan looked rather satisfied, his eyes closed as sunlight flickered softly across his freckled face, so Kyle didn't complain.

As promised, he had texted Dan just over an hour ago and offered to treat both him and his roommate to breakfast before they all had lectures to attend – a well-meant, conciliatory gesture and acknowledgement of the impossible situation that he had forced upon them only two nights ago. As per usual, it was Ralph who let Kyle into their room when the boy turned up, balancing a takeaway tray and a paper bag full of cinnamon bagels, and though frowning slightly as he looked Kyle up and down, the older man uttered nothing but an offhand _morning_ and _thanks_ as he accepted the hot drink and baked goods before excusing himself with a vague explanation and a mildly concerned look at his best friend who smiled appreciatively when Kyle handed him the blackest coffee the barista had been able to brew up.

 

It was a bright day yet dark thoughts plagued Kyle's mind as he took in the lazy morning scenery that unfolded outside the window. Lily had left the previous afternoon with a triumphant look on her face and Kyle had slammed the door and angrily thrown his pillow across the room, where it landed noisily on the cluttered desk, knocking over empty water bottles and causing a shower of Will's drawing pencils to rain down onto the linoleum floor. As if _Dan_ , of all people, was capable of the kind of perfidious intrigue which she accused him of – he was, simply put, far too nice to deliberately hurt another person and Kyle was furious with Lily for trying to drag his friend's name through the dirt, for thinking he was obtuse enough to swallow her blatant lies.

And even though he could not help thinking that the story seemed too specific to have been _entirely_ made up and wondered if any part of it might hold _some_ truth, whether or not his friend had been with an older (perhaps even married) man was, quite frankly, none of Kyle's business, and if Dan's past relationships had turned out about as well as his own, the younger man certainly did not wish to twist the knife, figuratively speaking.

As a result of his irritation and unintended curiosity, all Kyle was left with was the irrefutable fact that the image of Dan loving _some guy_ unleashed a dull ache in his chest, a deep confusion that made him feel on edge; and he was by no means ready to explore what these newly found emotions meant – or if they meant anything at all.

Kyle bit down on his bottom lip and peered furtively over the rim of his cup and at the older boy who was still watching the passersby, hunching his shoulders as a sharp gust of wind rushed past them and ruffled the pages of the heavy dictionary that lay open on Dan's bed. Although Kyle did not mean to make assumptions, his friend appeared to have made a determined effort to avoid dressing in all-black; the dark purple of his cosy sweatshirt complemented the stunning hue of his eyes and his ripped blue jeans made him look much more carefree than Kyle knew he was – the boy looked so unlike his usual, cautious self that Kyle could not help looking him up and down for a few moments, until Dan caught him staring and blushed deeply.

 

“W-what?”

 

“Nothing. You, uh- you look nice.”

 

Dan blinked his blue eyes several times. “Oh. Thank you.”

 

Clearing his throat, Kyle tried to put on a casual expression.

“Listen, are you okay?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The younger man took a sip of his coffee and fidgeted with the white plastic lid. “You look really tired.” _Again._

 

A lopsided smile slowly lit up Dan's face as his eyes widened in surprise, and when he answered, his voice was low and soft. “I'm alright, thanks.”

 

It was hardly a satisfactory answer and even though Kyle remained largely unconvinced, he nodded and decided that today was not the day to antagonise Dan by acting unduly concerned, not whilst savouring the very coffee he had brought as part of an awkward apology for being an arse and a heartfelt _thank you_ for looking after him instead of deciding to ditch him in the freezing cold. Kyle huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head – how _anybody_ could believe that the remarkably patient, genuine and kind-hearted man in front of him was, in fact, _a liar and a home wrecker_ – as Lily had so eloquently phrased it – was beyond him.

“What's so funny?” Dan asked with a curious look on his face.

 

“Nothing,” Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “just ... people are dicks.”

 

Dan drew his brows together and tilted his head as he stared at Kyle with hesitance reflecting in his eyes, and the younger man quickly dismissed his friend's worry with a wave of the hand and a smile. “Not you, obviously.”

Dan seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“So,” Kyle proceeded, straightening his back and setting aside his now empty cup, “we've still got a couple hours, you wanna go somewhere?”

 

The older boy's eyes wandered back outside and he rested his chin on his knees, swirling the rest of his lukewarm coffee around and humming contemplatively.

“Do you- would you mind staying in?” He smiled waveringly. “I don't really feel like going out.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Kyle nodded, then smirked as an idea came into his mind. “Hey, I still haven't seen that film you recommended ...” He left the suggestion unspoken but a radiant smile instantly lit up Dan's face.

 

“ _Rear Window_? We can watch it on Ralph's laptop,” he announced as he swiftly swung his legs over the ledge and hopped off, nearly toppling over as he landed unsteadily on his socked feet. Kyle smiled to himself while Dan scurried around the room, throwing back the neatly folded duvet that lay on Ralph's bed and snatching his friend's half-hidden laptop as he chattered away, seeming to scour his brain for every stashed away piece of trivia and behind-the-scenes story of the _amazing, Oscar-nominated film_ they were about to watch.

“I mean, I suppose it's more of a thriller than a horror movie, but it's Hitchcock, so it's kinda scary anyway. There's this guy who breaks his leg, so he's stuck at home and getting _really fucking bored_ , so he watches his neighbours through a telescope and binoculars – which sounds really weird, now that I say it out loud. But anyways, he ends up seeing some mysterious shit and kinda tries to investigate a bit and then- crap, I'm gonna spoil it all, I really need to learn to shut up.”

Kyle couldn't stifle a laugh – this was certainly not a statement he had ever expected Dan to make, but the fact that the younger man had rarely heard his friend utter quite as many words as he did now, raving breathlessly about one of his favourite films, flooded his senses with deep affection and he grinned as he swiftly binned the empty paper cups and closed the windows, listening closely to Dan gushing over Alfred Hitchcock at the same time as scanning a tall and wobbly stack of DVDs that stood precariously on the floor next to his bedside table.

 

“I hate to interrupt but do you guys have a heater?” Kyle sniggered and without so much as looking at him, Dan pointed vaguely towards the bathroom. When the young man peered inside, he indeed spied a rundown radiator that had eggshell white paint peeling off it in big chunks and he dragged it across the floor and plugged it in next to Dan's bed, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and hoping that the evident _relic_ would manage to warm up the small room _before_ Kyle turned into a human icicle.

 

Soon afterwards, the two boys were sat snugly on Dan's bed, fluffy pillows tucked behind their backs and scattered all around them (the older man had an unexpected obsession, it would seem) and the drawn curtains creating a cosy, protected ambience. Their eyes were focused wholly on the obviously ancient laptop that sounded like it might blow up, but it was a good film and Kyle liked it from the first minute. He had always thought that older scary movies were not only surprisingly eerie but also, to a certain degree, disturbingly hilarious – like the iconic eye popping scene in the 80s horror flick _Friday the 13th Part III_ or the peculiar interpretive dancing at the end of Tobe Hooper's _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_. Dan did not comment on what was playing out in front of them all that much but didn't seem to mind Kyle's ramblings at all; in fact, he reacted with genuine glee whenever the other cracked an admittedly lame joke – it was easy to make Dan laugh and Kyle was loving every second of it.

 

About halfway through _Rear Window_ and as Kyle was finally becoming so engrossed in what was happening on the tiny screen that he forgot to carry on with his light-hearted rant, Dan became very quiet and Kyle was convinced that the older man was just as enraptured by the increasing suspense as he was – until his friend's head suddenly landed on his shoulder, gently and with a soft rustle of fabric against skin, and Kyle held his breath for much longer than he believed he should be physically capable of until he was absolutely positive: Dan was fast asleep.

For a short while, the younger man tried very hard to pay no attention to the warm weight that had settled on his shoulder and instead attempted to concentrate on the film that soon began to blur into a senseless range of contextless scenes before his eyes. His heart threatened to leap right out of his chest and an uncomfortable stiffness crept into his limbs as he tried to remain perfectly still, but soon enough, Kyle's curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head in an all but mechanical, doll-like motion and glanced discreetly at the sleeping boy.

Dan's tranquil features were illuminated by the cold, flickering light of the computer screen, his long eyelashes fanned out over his skin and casting shadows like black ink; his lips were parted and he was breathing deeply and evenly, his chest rising and falling in a soft but steady rhythm. Kyle felt a pang of inscrutable nostalgia, a deep longing for wholeness as he regarded Dan, who looked so much younger and more peaceful now – the only aspect of his pale face which betrayed his seemingly perpetual state of underlying unease were his brows, drawn together as if he was finding it hard to _let go_ even in his sleep. He looked vulnerable, with his arms wrapped around his middle like he had a stomachache, and Kyle felt like he was breathing into a megaphone when he raised a tentative hand and gingerly brushed a strand of hair from the other's forehead. Dan shifted ever so slightly and Kyle was almost certain he was going to wake up – but the older man only curled further into the younger one's side and Kyle thought that his heart was going to burst.

He leaned his head back against the wall and breathed deeply for a few minutes, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat that radiated off the body that was snuggled up to his. Since he had met the older man, he had been unable to put his finger on _what it was_ , the deep-rooted, reassuring feeling that washed over him whenever he so much as set eyes on Dan, every time they touched or spoke, but at this very moment, when it was just the two of them together in utter silence and peaceful intimateness, it suddenly became clear as day to Kyle.

_Home._

Dan felt like home.

Kyle took a long, relieving breath and gently leaned his cheek against Dan's head, ignoring his friend's messy hair tickling his skin as he inhaled the fresh, orangy scent of his shampoo and carefully slung a protective arm around Dan's shoulders. The older man immediately stretched further towards the welcoming warmth that enveloped him and nuzzled his face into the crook of Kyle's neck with a satisfied sigh. The film didn't matter anymore.

Kyle smiled to himself. It had been a while since he had held somebody like this, since he had run his fingers through someone's hair and felt _soothed_ , and breathed in the serenity of an unhurried, intimate moment while allowing himself to embrace the searing sense of protective devotion within him – too long since he had simply revelled in the heat of another body and let go of the negativeness that bore down on his mind like a gloomy rain cloud. He hadn't realised just how much he missed it.

 

Kyle sighed as any and all awkwardness inside him dissolved into thin air and held Dan tightly.

_He doesn't need to know._

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Dan came to slowly and gradually, struggling to open his eyes as he sensed the protective caress of sleep that swathed his body like layer upon layer of soft cotton wool haltingly give way to the sluggish stirring of his waking mind. He was lying down, curled up on his side with his blanket tucked between his knees, and through the filmy haze that stemmed from falling asleep with his contact lenses in, he could just about make out Ralph's laptop, discarded at the foot of the bed (its screen black and silent) and the rusty radiator that stood in the middle of the dimly lit room and continued gleefully emitting its familiar clicking noises, keeping the small space _just_ warm enough to stave off the biting cold that hugged the building tightly; he could see his striped socks on top of the light blue duvet as well as a pair of long legs that were stretched out comfortably in front of him.

_Kyle?_

Of course, the taller boy had come over, they had sipped coffee and talked and decided to finally watch _Rear Window_ together, and ... _and what?_ Gingerly, Dan uncurled his stiff body, wincing as he felt a slight crick in his neck and wondering when the hell he had dozed off and why Kyle had not thought it necessary to wake him up instead of pausing the film and letting him snooze, but any and all lucid thinking came to a halt when Dan realised that the pillow his head was resting on was ... quite hard. Fumbling around, his searching fingers found a patch of rough fabric and – a _knee_?

_What the-_

The circumstances of his awakening hit Dan like a ton of bricks and he snapped his head up and found himself staring straight into Kyle's gleaming eyes. He could feel himself blush deeply as a knowing smile played on the younger man's lips, and he sat up straight, fighting to get past the drowsiness of his dazed mind.

_You fell asleep on him. You slept on his lap. You actually-_

“You okay?”

 

Dan opened his mouth but no sound would escape his lips, and he solely proceeded to stare until eventually, he came to his senses and managed to articulate a profound (if sleep-addled), “Fuck.”

 

Kyle raised one perfectly expressive eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with irrepressible delight, and Dan cleared his throat and ran a hand over his face.

“I-I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to fall-”

But he didn't get to wrap up his spluttered apology before Kyle burst out laughing.

“W-what?”

 

“I'm sorry,” Kyle giggled, “it's just – you've got sleep lines all over your cheek. Had a good nap, did you?”

 

He smirked and Dan buried his face in his hands and heaved a deep sigh. “This is so embarrassing.”

 

“It's fine, man. You fell asleep on my shoulder but your head kept slipping and I kinda wanted to avoid you falling face first into my crotch, for both our sakes, so I tried to, uh, make you more comfortable, ya know. I hope that's not weird.”

He shrugged awkwardly but his smile was genuine and affectionate, and though Dan truly welcomed his friend's well-intentioned attempt to alleviate his utmost embarrassment with playful humour, he could not help feeling like a nuisance – like he had _inconvenienced_ Kyle.

 

“N-no, that's, um- that was nice of you. You could've finished the movie though, I wouldn't mind,” he tried to subtly change the topic of conversation.

 

“I did finish it! You were out for over an hour, dude.”

 

Dan coughed slightly.

“D-did you like it?”

 

“Yeah, it was great! Definitely gonna watch it again,” Kyle proclaimed and nodded vigorously, then raised his arms above his head and stretched contentedly, and his long-sleeved T-shirt rode up just enough to expose a stretch of smooth, tanned skin and a narrow trail of dark hair that ran down his stomach and disappeared under the black waistband of his underwear. Dan's gaze unwittingly rested on the sharp outline of Kyle's hip bone and he swallowed hard – of course, the first time in a good while that Dan allowed himself to look at another man's body in _that_ way, it had to be the wrong guy. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, pointedly looked the other way and pretended to be nothing short of _intrigued_ with the broken bathroom door handle.

_He's straight, Dan. Get a fucking grip._

Biting the inside of his cheek, he blinked frantically as he urged his frustratingly muddled thoughts to contribute something clever, noteworthy to the dialogue that would aid in covering up the distressing fact that he was starting to feel very warm and flustered for all sorts of embarrassing, _X-rated_ reasons.

“Yeah, it- it's really, uh ... really something, isn't it?”

_Wow, who gave you secret small talk lessons?_

“I-I'm sorry but I should really get ready for class now,” he blurted out rather unceremoniously but Kyle only smiled and nodded graciously, apparently oblivious to his friend's increasingly _unhinged_ state and the poor excuse that had slipped past his lips.

 

“Me too, actually,” Kyle acknowledged and glanced at his phone, “you woke up just in time.”

 

Trying a timid smile, Dan watched the younger man rising from his rumpled bed and stretching out his long legs, groaning loudly before he snatched his dark blue coat off the back of the only chair in the room, shrugged it on in one smooth motion and adjusted the maroon beanie he rarely seemed to take off. Kyle glanced at him.

 

“Dan – I was gonna ask you something.”

 

Crossing his arms protectively in front of his chest, Dan eyed the taller man with lingering suspicion – those particular words were commonly followed up with something or other that was sure to make him very uncomfortable, and Dan could only hope that, whatever the question, it would not concern any favours that involved parties, hateful ex-girlfriends or, well – people, in general.

“Oh?”

 

“So- remember my mum invited you to come over sometime?” Kyle waited for Dan's affirmative nod before he carried on. “Well, next weekend, there's this little winter funfair in my town, kinda like _Winter Wonderland_ but less crowded, less expensive.” He furrowed his brow. “Less fun.”

 

He smiled and Dan swallowed down the cold sense of foreboding that swept over him. “It's not _great_ , to be honest, but do you- would you like to come? We could stay at my parents' for the weekend, I could introduce you to my brother and sister. And my cats, they're dying to meet you. And we could, you know, go to the fair together?”

Kyle seemed uncertain, kept fiddling with the zip on his jacket – it was like Dan was looking at himself in the mirror, the restless energy that radiated off his friend all too well known to him; and even though funfairs and sleepovers were pretty much Dan's precise definition of a very awkward, very unpleasant time, the idea of spending an entire weekend by Kyle's side, meeting his parents, staying at the house his friend had grown up in ... Dan took a deep breath and bundled up what little courage he carried in his heart.

“I'd like that.”

 

Kyle stared at him and the surprise and confusion on his face slowly made way for a look of amazement. “Really?”

Dan nodded shyly and rose from the bed, running a hand down his rumpled sweatshirt as he stood awkwardly in front of the taller man, half expecting Kyle to laugh and dismiss the invitation as a joke. “Y-yeah? I mean I need to ask my dad if it's alright, but ...”

 

That familiar, most contagious smile that seemed to brighten the dim space instantly and immeasurably lit up Kyle's face and he took a step forward, eyes radiant with elation, but stopped dead in his tracks as if an unpleasant afterthought had suddenly struck and transfixed him. His face fell and an unusually coy smile flitted across his features as he made sure not to stand all too close to Dan and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“It's gonna be good, I promise.”

 

_Ah. Personal space._ Drawing in a shaky breath and resolving not to overthink his actions, Dan closed the distance between them, clearly taking Kyle by surprise as he wrapped his arms loosely around the other's middle – screw what he had said about needing distance, Dan had already dozed off with his head resting comfortably next to his friend's crotch, a quick hug would not kill either of them.

The taller boy went rigid, standing as still as a statue for a moment before any and all tension evaporated, he relaxed wholly and reciprocated the affectionate embrace, hesitantly at first, as if ensuring to create more than enough room for Dan to pull away. Kyle's frame was slender, his skin warm and the sweet floral scent of laundry detergent that clung to his clothes mingled beautifully with the distinct aroma of his aftershave. Dan pressed his cheek against Kyle's shoulder and inhaled deeply, listening to the storm of the other's heartbeat as Kyle's hold on him grew more confident, more ... possessive, his hands tracing the curve of Dan's back as he buried his face in the older boy's messy hair with a sigh.

They remained in their intimate bubble for what could have been five minutes or two hours, utter stillness encompassing them whilst Dan lost any sense of reality in the feeling of warmth and _relief_ which he had been fearing and craving for what felt like forever, before the younger man pulled back slowly, reluctantly and gazed at him with thoughtful wonderment in his eyes. Dan's face was getting warmer and warmer under the other's scrutiny and he felt amazingly dazed as Kyle raised a hand to caress his cheek ever so softly with his fingertips. Dan shuddered inadvertently at the most tender touch and swallowed as the other closed the vanishingly small distance between them, held his breath as Kyle pressed their foreheads together. His eyes fluttered shut.

 

“I'm glad you got to rest a little bit. You looked exhausted,” the younger man murmured and Dan could feel his breath ghosting over his skin, heard the mellow breeze exhaling impulsively outside the window and swaying the leafless branches. For a moment, Dan entertained the possibility that he might still be asleep and dreaming at this very moment, in which case – _don't wake me up_.

Yet still, he opened his eyes hesitantly and looked up at the young man in front of him, at his enticingly dark eyes and thick lashes and strong brows, at the smooth curve of his cheekbones and his tempting lips, when Kyle suddenly cleared his throat, a sound that almost startled Dan with its sudden loudness, and moved back ever so slightly, smiling as he rested his hands on Dan's shoulders and squeezed gently.

“You know, my mum's gonna be so happy to meet you, she might just ask you to move in with them,” he announced blithely and Dan could not shake the feeling that Kyle was very intentionally covering up the vulnerable nature of the moment they had shared – but he smiled anyway as he silently revelled in the grounding sensation of Kyle's warm hands resting heavily on his shoulders.

“Okay, I need to- I'm gonna go now.”

 

Being very much at a loss for words, Dan merely nodded his head as Kyle grabbed his tattered rucksack, ran his fingers through his dark hair and scanned the room for any possible discarded belongings. Dan pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands and stared at his socks.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he brought himself to utter and Kyle beamed.

 

“Anytime,” the tall man responded with unfailing enthusiasm as he walked across the room with a spring in his step and Dan following him like a shadow. “I'll, um- I'll text you.”

Kyle paused at the door, leaned forward and gave Dan a peck on the cheek, promptly and softly and catching him entirely unawares – the faithful imitation of a different, treasured memory: _that night_ , the night of the Halloween party, the night Kyle had gazed at him just as he did now, smiling with his lips and his eyes and his heart, and the awareness of his feelings hit Dan like a bolt of lightning.

 

“See ya, Dan.”

The very same hardly acknowledged the goodbye, in fact only just trusted himself to flash the younger man the ghost of a smile as Kyle slipped out of the room and shut the door quietly before his unveiled emotions threatened to overwhelm him like a flood wave.

Halloween. The night Dan had told Kyle about _Rear Window_ and convinced him that they _had to_ watch it together, the night they had held hands and Kyle's fingers had been unsteady but determined as he coated Dan's skin with black and white paint. The night the taller man had accompanied him back to his dorm and kissed his cheek gently.

The night the older man had understood something which he had since locked up in his heart, tucked away where he had believed he could ignore its existence.

 

The realisation that Dan was, in fact, hopelessly in love.

 


	19. Where the Heart Is (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this since the Dark Ages and I'm really really sorry. This chapter was actually finished when my laptop died and killed it, so I had to rewrite the entire thing which was really fun (it really wasn't). So, apologies in advance if it's a bit shit.  
> Thank you so much for reading this silly little story though, I know it's "just a fanfic" but it means a lot to me that some people seem to like it. I love all of you so much ♥

On Friday, Kyle waited at the agreed meeting place around the corner of the library. Dan saw him from afar, leaning casually on the chest-high brick wall that enclosed the paved premises, clad in a black leather jacket and wearing a disarming smile that made Dan weak in the knees and sparked a sudden desire to spontaneously pass out.

Over a week had gone by since _Rear Window_ and somehow, Dan had miraculously managed to both evade the younger man _and_ avoid having to answer Ralph's nagging questions, using lectures and studying as a pretext to hole up in his room whilst spending most of his time overthinking the situation. Realising that he felt so much more than just _amicably_ connected to Kyle had felt like a punch in the gut and for a number of days, Dan had waded through a wreckage of contradictory emotions – from dismay and denial over secret hope to unreasonable stubbornness – that had left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. But even though the stage fright that overwhelmed him upon grasping that he was in fact supposed to spend most of the weekend with Kyle _and_ his family had made it difficult to get out of bed that morning, Dan had never contemplated _declining_ the invitation.

He _did_ want to see his friend's home, after all, wanted to be introduced to his parents and siblings and set foot in the room that Kyle had slept and pondered, laughed and cried and likely written love letters in for the greater part of his life thus far; Dan wanted to allow himself to be guided by the voice he adored instead of the discouraging whispers in his head, always reminding him that Kyle could never _want_ him, that they would never belong to each other – a hurtful acknowledgement that he tried to suppress by dwelling on utterly hopeless physical attraction, something he could only indulge in because he knew that his bouts of wishful thinking were unlikely to do much harm, and because, well, there was simply no use denying that Kyle was an extremely good-looking man. In addition to being pleasantly open-minded, kind-hearted, hilarious and smart. _Dammit_ , Dan almost felt sorry for the boy's ex-girlfriend who had loved and lost Kyle and was now desperate to get him back.

_Maybe she shouldn't have been such a bitch then._

He felt himself flush, embarrassed about showcasing a spiteful possessiveness that he was in no way entitled to, and though he felt like he was struggling in vain, Dan had no choice but to accept it: the invariable and perfectly obvious fact that he was head over heels in love.

 

They had covered a good half of the uneventful northbound train journey and Kyle's round-the-clock chattering remained uninterrupted as Dan regarded him intently, from the silver rings that gleamed in the lazy lamplight when he ran his fingers through his beard to the warm hue of his dark eyes ... to his lips. Dan couldn't help staring at them, trying and failing to recall how they had felt on his own when they had kissed – until his mouth went dry and he had to take a long drink of the coffee they had bought at the station.

It was remarkable how deciphering his emotions had changed the way Dan looked at his friend so drastically, how bursts of electricity suddenly coursed through his body whenever Kyle's deep voice resounded in his ears and his infectious laugh resonated in his chest, how he sensed a tender flutter in his stomach every time a smile lit up Kyle's face.

He was beautiful – and _far_ beyond Dan's reach.

Whilst eyeing the man sitting across from him, Dan began feeling increasingly insecure, ridiculous even as he thought back to his own reflection in the bathroom mirror that morning, to the hair that hadn't seen a pair of clippers in a _long_ time, the dark circles under his eyes and the ludicrous wolf jumper ... he really _was_ pathetic, wasn't he?

 

“Dan?”

 

_I love you._

The intrusive and painfully repetitive thought that had been swimming back and forth in Dan's head for days returned with renewed clarity when he looked up at the younger man.

_God, I really love you._

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are you listening to me?”

 

Blinking owlishly, Dan forced his mind back into the overheated compartment.

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Oh? What was I talking about?”

 

“Uh, cats?”

 

Kyle's face fell, his playful smirk dropping quickly. “Dammit.” He crossed his legs. “To be fair, you had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”

 

The older man hummed contemplatively. “What's the other fifty per cent?”

 

“You.”

 

“I ... w-what?”

 

Kyle laughed. “I'm kidding. There's a lot of things I kind of always think about ... food, Jeff Goldblum, the end of the world – just to name a few.”

 

Dan smiled uneasily, finding himself desperate to discover just the slightest trace of honesty in his friend's light-hearted joke when Kyle seemingly caught on to his inward disarray and suddenly tilted his head, an inquisitive glint in his gentle eyes that quickly transformed into something akin to anxious uncertainty.

“Are you okay? You look kind of nervous.”

 

Straightening himself in the uncomfortable seat, Dan pulled self-consciously at his loose jumper and cleared his throat.

“I'm fine.” He hesitated, wringing his hands. “Just, you know – meeting your parents and all that ... it's kinda nerve-racking.”

 

Kyle smiled consolingly. “There's really _nothing_ to be worried about. My mum already wants to keep you – when I told her about Lily, all she did was shake her head.”

Dan felt himself flush mere seconds before he saw his own redness reflect on Kyle's features.

“N-not like this is anything like that. I mean, she was my- and w-we're just, uh ... friends.”

 

_Just friends._

Of course they were no more than that, but despite the perpetual awareness of the discouraging obstacle, hearing Kyle actually _say_ the words hurt Dan more than he cared to admit, and so he solely nodded his head and swiftly let his gaze wander out of the window, eyes pursuing the broad, barren acres and leafless treetops as he willed his heart to stop racing like a broken metronome. He wished he could simply switch off his emotions.

 

It was going to be a long weekend.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

The boys reached Kyle's hometown in the early afternoon and, since the younger man's parents were bound to be at work for a few more hours, they left the station on the first available bus – a circumstance that Kyle felt quite relieved about, seeing as Dan would be able to become accustomed to the unfamiliar surroundings _before_ being interrogated by his nosy siblings and _without_ Mrs Simmons watching his every step.

It was a picture-postcard November day, chilly and foggy yet flaunting a determined richness that, though wrapped in motionless mist, brought forth scarce splashes of colour from the occasional neon traffic cone or a bright red sunblind – but as ever, the weather appeared to have next to no impact on the daily routine of the small-town residents who merely shot the occasional sullen glance at the wide, gloomy sky as they went their way. Kyle, on the other hand, watched tensely as Dan gazed at the busy scene, his blue eyes wide and attentive as they seemed to soak in each and every detail. Whether or not Kyle himself even _liked_ his hometown (with its mundane greyness, rather uptight inhabitants and less than convenient train connections) was very much debatable, but somehow, he really wanted Dan to like it. He needed him to want to come back.

 

It was less than a ten-minute walk from the nearest bus stop to the modest single-family home, and rummaging through his backpack in search of the keys whilst walking up the short gravel path, Kyle very nearly collided with Dan when the older man jerked to a halt without warning.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

Dan turned to look at him. “Uh, no. Your house is really nice.”

 

“Is it?”

Kyle's eyes traced the simple outlines of his childhood home. It was painted in a washed-out shade of straw yellow that contrasted strongly but not unpleasantly with the recently renewed dark green window shutters, there was a narrow, presently vacant garage driveway on the right and the flowerbed in front of the house was long-since overgrown with moss and withered weeds – unfortunately, his parents had very little free time. The friends were welcomed by a lopsided door wreath that was decorated with half a dozen lovingly embellished sparrow figurines as well as a tiny wooden sign saying _Bienvenue_. The house was exactly the same as it had always been but Dan still nodded vigorously.

 

“I've always lived in a flat, having all this to yourself must be great.”

 

Kyle smiled to himself as he unlocked the front door.

“I guess so. There's a lot of space.”

When the door swung open with a subtle creak, two sleepy furballs immediately tiptoed towards the boys, stretching out their legs and licking their lips hungrily. A contented sigh escaped Kyle.

“Say hello to my children.”

 

Surprisingly enough, watching Dan play with Peach and Zappa for the better part of half an hour created a feeling of warmth and safety around them that rushed into Kyle's head, caused his skin to tingle and made him inexpressibly excited about being alive. The cats seemed to be uncommonly fond of the tall man with the notably quiet demeanour and Dan appeared to be enjoying himself as well, sitting cross-legged on the tiled hallway floor and looking as carefree as Kyle had ever seen him while he dangled a frayed shoelace in front of Zappa's face like a pendulum that bewitched the purring cat's eyes. Dan was smiling so adoringly that Kyle feared he might have forgotten about him until he cleared his throat as subtly as possible and was rewarded with confused stares from the three of them – and immediately regretted leaving his phone in his bag, disappointed about the missed opportunity to capture the very first encounter between his babies and his-

_Friend._

Yes, his _friend_ with the curiously soft hair that was starting to get a little curly at the ends, his friend with the cute smile and the porcelain skin and the pale freckles that dusted his cheeks. His friend with the frankly _ridiculous_ eyelashes and those deep blue eyes that were presently gazing at him as if he was _waiting_ , as if Kyle was supposed to say something and- _say something, you idiot._

 

“So, um- would you, uh, do you want me to show you the- the rest of the house now?”

 

Dan seemed rather reluctant to leave the smallest family members but nevertheless accepted Kyle's invitation as well as the hand his friend extended to help him to his feet before walking into the light-flooded living room ahead of the older man and hastily adjusting a couple of decorative floral cushions that were scattered across the clunky but comfortable sofa. There was, logically, no reason to be nervous – and yet Kyle felt like some sort of unsuccessful and terribly jumpy estate agent, desperate to _seal the deal_ and keeping a close watch on the potential buyer, ready to comply with his every wish.

The tall, open living room was, by all means, the soul of the house. Homely and inviting, it exuded a particular sense of comfort that was reflected in its lovingly arranged furniture, the abundance of embroidered cushions that Kyle's grandma obsessively supplied her daughter with, the big plush carpet that was an absolute nightmare to hoover and the plain plywood shelves that held countless historical novels, aged records and half-forgotten Disney VHS tapes. A few easy-care house plants were stood in the corners of the room and original artworks from the children's earliest years covered the wallpaper that had definitely seen better days – as had the ancient tube television that looked like it had been stolen from an antiques shop. Peach and Zappa's bulky cat tree took up much more space than it had any right to, seeing as it was generally ignored, and the solid wood table on the left side of the room acted as a memento of the _good old days_ , when Kyle would come home and do his school work while his dad graded his students' essays next to him; the weeks, months and years before the twins showed up and Kyle was forced to relocate to his bedroom to avoid the new noise level.

_This_ was home, the room with the hideous red ceramic vases and the fake orchids and the pencil marks on the wall that showed his growth over the years – it was Kyle's home and he loved it.

 

“So,” he announced and shoved his hands in his pockets, “this is it.”

 

Dan nodded, smiling widely as he let his eyes wander. “Your parents are really into Ikea, aren't they?”

 

“Who isn't?”

 

It was odd, Kyle mused, that the distinguishing characteristics of his home, the very particular conglomeration of objects that held so many valuable memories and deep emotions for him and his family should seem like nothing but a cluttered jumble to anyone else, a trivial collection of _things_ ; that the same place that Kyle deemed familiar and welcoming was likely to look foreign and impersonal to Dan.

The younger man cleared his throat and ran a hand over the slightly rough fabric of the knitted patchwork quilt that was thrown over the back of the blue sofa.

“My grandma made this for me,” Kyle explained, smiling, “I banned it from my room when I was a teenager and stupidly embarrassed about owning a pink blanket, but now I kind of want it back.”

He leaned towards his friend and lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“You think you could help me sneak it upstairs later?”

 

Dan laughed and shook his head. “We're alone, just take it now.”

 

“Nah, that's too easy,” Kyle whispered before he jumped on the sofa and made himself comfortable on the cushions, gesturing for Dan to join him. Sitting cross-legged with his hands folded neatly in his lap, the older man studied the framed crayon drawings on the opposite wall.

 

“Had a thing for butterflies, did you?”

 

“Apparently I was a bit of a bug activist,” Kyle proclaimed and chuckling quietly, Dan pointed at a large, coarsely painted tree branch that stood by the tall windows, half-concealed behind the cream curtains.

 

“What the hell is that?”

 

Kyle looked the colourful _installation_ up and down and pulled a face.

“It's supposed to be a totem pole. I made it at school.”

 

Dan arched his eyebrows. “When was this then?”

 

“Like, last year?”

 

The older man burst out laughing and Kyle joined in after giving him a sidelong glance.

“I'm joking. I was probably eight or something.”

 

Nodding in feigned fascination, Dan rose from the sofa, shuffling over to the wall of family photos and scrutinising one of the many pictures that had been taken at Kyle's aunt's wedding two years ago. He knit his brows.

“Are these your parents?” he asked and pointed at the smiling couple flanking the young man, arms wrapped around his waist. Kyle stepped behind Dan, nodding eagerly as he gazed fondly at the photographs.

“You don't look anything like them.”

 

Kyle grinned. “I'm adopted.”

 

To be perfectly honest, seeing Dan's sweet features contort with bewilderment and then outright horror _was_ quite entertaining and Kyle observed with suppressed amusement as a furious blush spread across his friend's cheeks.

“I-I'm really sorry, I didn't know.”

 

“It's fine, I make no secret of it.”

He watched Dan carefully, noted the way his brows were drawn tight, his eyes serious, and Kyle sighed and rested his chin on the boy's bony shoulder, making him flinch.

“Dan. I said it's fine, okay? Honestly, I joke about it all the time.”

 

The other wrung his hands and eyed Kyle timidly. “You sure?”

 

“Yes,” Kyle exclaimed and moved over to his mum's record player, browsing through the extensive vinyl collection that was displayed on a slightly crooked white shelf and choosing Julie London's _Cry Me A River_ – his dad's all-time favourite. As he guided the stylus to sit perfectly on top of the record and the familiar, soft crackling that caused a pleasant shiver to run down Kyle's spine filled the living room, Dan leaned his hip against the china cabinet and let his eyes wander over the family photographs once more.

 

“Your mum is very pretty,” he murmured, his gaze strangely distant.

 

Kyle smiled. Seeing his friend like this, he could not disregard the turbulent sensation in the pit of his stomach and the firm belief that Dan _belonged_ here, that this peculiar feeling as if Kyle had known the older man for years and years and seen him in this house, in this very room countless times, proved that he had not misjudged Dan's character.

“Thank you. If you got her genes, then so is yours.”

Judging by the sober expression on Dan's face, there was a good chance that what was supposed to be a light-hearted compliment had sounded more flirtatious than Kyle intended, but leaving his friend with little time to ponder, the other's features brightened up quickly as he began to hum along with the music. The tone of his voice merged with that of the famous singer in an all but spellbinding fashion and echoed softly off the walls, and Kyle instinctively gravitated towards Dan, standing in front of him and reaching out to hold his hands as their eyes met in a long and silent gaze.

“Damn, your hands are _freezing_ ,” Kyle murmured softly and raised their hands closer to his face, rubbing the cold skin gently. There was a small scar on the side of Dan's thumb that Kyle made a mental note to ask about, _someday_. Just one more footnote to add to the endless list of questions he was too self-conscious to ask.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”

 

_What's your go-to ice cream flavour?_

_Do you have a favourite painter?_

_Have you ever gotten really drunk?_

_No – you said you're not supposed to drink._

_Why is that?_

 

Kyle swallowed.

 

_Do you really like me, or did you only agree to come along because I forced you to be my friend and now you're in too deep to tell me to leave you alone?_

 

He tried to tamp down on the overwhelming sadness that suddenly came over him and closed his eyes as he rested his temple against the other's hands. He wanted him to be happy. He wanted to _make him_ happy.

Sniffling quietly, Kyle looked up at Dan, forcing himself to smile weakly and hoping that one day, he would be enough to chase away the doubt and the worry in those deep blue eyes. And even though Kyle was acutely aware that he was most probably overstepping any and all boundaries of appropriate behaviour, he leaned down and touched Dan's knuckles lightly with his lips, one chaste kiss on each gentle curve of his hand, bearing all the affection he carried in his heart. Dan didn't flinch this time and when their eyes met once more, he looked like he wanted to ask as well, to pose all those little questions they hadn't had time to answer just yet, but before either of them could utter a single word, they were interrupted when the front door flew open and loud voices immediately filled the small corridor.

Both men winced slightly and Kyle let go of Dan with a subtle cough as he turned around to slowly lift the needle off the spinning record before his twin siblings entered the room. Kyle darted a glance at his friend who seemed to have receded back into his metaphorical shell, a tender blush painting his cheeks as the younger man waved his hand back and forth between the mutually unfamiliar faces.

“Dan, this- this is Emma and Jo. Guys ... this is my f-friend, Dan.” He took a deep breath. “ _Behave_.”

 

Emma arched one eyebrow at her brother's vague attempt to exude authority as Dan waved shyly at the two kids before crossing his arms over his chest. Jonathan smiled, giving a little wave of his own while Emma simply looked the newcomer up and down, her eyes full of curiosity.

“Right,” Kyle exclaimed and sighed deeply. Something was _different_ between Dan and him and between thinking that maybe he was just imagining things and being convinced that the other secretly loathed him, all he knew was that it was giving him a bloody headache.

He nodded towards the kitchen.

“Tea?”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

The way Kyle interacted with his siblings was, in all honesty, beautiful to look at.

Dan was sat at a small, round dining table in a cosy kitchen with white cupboards, a loudly ticking wall clock and an unobstructed view of the tiny, charmingly unkempt garden, his eyes flicking back and forth between Kyle who busied himself with making tea and opening various biscuit tins and his little brother who had followed them into the kitchen while his sister had ensconced herself on the sofa to watch some dreadfully loud cartoon. Confirming the family affiliation, Jonathan was babbling incessantly about something or other that Dan could not quite focus on (since Kyle was standing right in front of him and wearing that stupid, distracting white T-shirt that really, truly fit him perfectly). Kyle himself, however, listened closely to everything the younger boy had to say, never cut him short and reacted with sincere enthusiasm and appreciation to his words, and as he watched them speak with such ease and familiarity, for the first time in his life Dan felt something akin to regret – _jealousy_ even – about growing up as an only child.

The twins appeared to be naturally lively, bright ten-year-old kids, their green eyes full of mischief and genuine curiosity. They had inherited their parents' light brown hair and fair complexion and, as far as Dan could judge, their older brother's clothing style (or perhaps his actual clothes, seeing as Jonathan was wearing a striped sweater that was a little too big on him, interestingly paired with a pleated polka-dot skirt).

 

“So actually, they're _less_ dangerous to humans than bears and even cougars. I read that in North America, at least forty people have lost their lives due to bear attacks in the past eighteen years – that's twenty times as much as-”

The boy stopped abruptly and eyed Dan inquisitively and the older man didn't have a chance to feel uncomfortable before Kyle noticed his confusion and smiled.

“Misconceptions about wolves,” he clarified and nodded at the slightly tacky wolf print on Dan's dark blue jumper.

 

“You like them?” Jonathan asked, watching Dan with a hint of scepticism in his eyes.

 

Dan gave him a faint smile. “Uh yeah, I do.”

 

A moment of silence stretched between them before Jonathan beamed at Dan, shifted restlessly in his chair and rearranged his legs, leaning his torso over the wobbly table.

“Did you know that wolves don't actually kill for sport? It's a common myth in areas with larger wolf populations and-”

 

“Jo,” Kyle intervened, smirking as he placed three colourful cups of steaming tea on the table, “can we maybe find something less gruesome to talk about?”

 

Nodding in agreement, Jonathan remained silent while his older brother sat very close to his friend and smiled warmly as he offered him the hot drink. Dan folded one leg under the other and curled his fingers around the baby-blue heart print mug, inhaling the familiar, soothing scent and listening to the constant calming ticking of the wall clock.

 

“First cuppa I've made you,” Kyle commented with a grin and sipped at his own tea. “That's _got_ to be a milestone.”

 

A smile played on Dan's lips. “You nervous?”

 

“Are you boyfriends?” Jonathan interrupted bluntly, prompting Kyle to accidentally inhale the hot tea and erupt into a violent coughing fit, and swallowing down his embarrassment, Dan proceeded to gently pat the younger man on the back until he calmed down. Jonathan observed the interaction with interest.

 

“No,” Kyle finally answered his brother's question and Dan took a sip of his own drink to avoid having to speak up for himself. “No, we're just friends.”

 

Jo hummed to himself and knit his brows as if he were very earnestly contemplating the facts, then pointed an almost accusing finger at Dan.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

 

The older man merely shook his head. This conversation was slowly mutating into some sort of nightmare scenario and Dan could feel his face growing warmer by the second.

_I am begging you, shut up ..._

 

“You should date Kyle, move in with him so I can _finally_ have his room,” Emma suddenly announced from the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame with a sense of nonchalant, _perceptive_ self-assuredness that Dan had rarely seen in someone her age.

“He's pretty low-maintenance.”

 

“He really is,” her brother chipped in with an excited smile and an enthusiastic nod, “and he makes a wicked apple crumble!”

 

“Guys,” Kyle finally spoke out, his voice wavering slightly, “I hate to point out the obvious but you're making _everyone_ uncomfortable.”

 

Emma shrugged and pushed herself off the door frame, scrutinising her brother's guest.

“Alright, just one more thing – if you hurt him ...,” and she performed a very distinct cut-throat gesture, forcing Dan to stifle the laugh bubbling up inside him – he was either having an increasingly nonsensical fever dream or Kyle's siblings were actually even more eccentric than their older brother. _A lot_ more.

Anticipating the worst, Dan turned his head to glance at the younger man and was rewarded with an unprecedented view of Kyle staring open-mouthed, his eyes wide and absolutely mortified, and when his friend seemingly regained some composure and their eyes met, all the older man could bring himself to say was:

“Ten-year-olds, huh?”

 

At this very moment, a tall man who could only be Mr Simmons entered the kitchen astoundingly silently and his bright, welcoming smile slipped as he took in the dead quiet, reddened faces of his oldest son and the stranger sitting next to him. He sighed a deeply exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, then shot Dan a genuine if slightly strained smile.

“Whatever it is they said, please ignore them and make yourself at home – it's great to finally meet you!”

 


	20. Where the Heart Is (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty chapters. If I had known how long this story was going to be when I started, I probably would've destroyed my laptop.  
> No, but seriously - I do love writing this and wow, there's really no end in sight, is there.  
> Thank you so so much to anyone who has ever read even a single line of it and especially to the incredibly sweet people who keep commenting and encouraging me, I really wouldn't be writing this if it weren't for you.  
> I hope this chapter is okay, even though it's way too long.  
> Love you ♥♥

Soon after finishing tea, Mr Simmons left to pick up his wife from work (with Jonathan in tow, reciting his inexhaustible list of wolf facts) and Emma resumed binge-watching whatever obnoxious cartoon she was currently hooked on, so Kyle, insisting on carrying both his _and_ his friend's bags, led Dan upstairs to show him his bedroom. They stopped in front of a door that looked like it had been kicked in more often than not and a discreet side glance to the left revealed Dan wearing the look of faint surprise that Kyle had suspected to see on his face as he scrutinised the crimson retro poster that was taped to the wood, a sinister art print inspired by the famous dystopian novel _Nineteen Eighty-Four_.

 

“Big Brother is watching you,” Dan whispered, appreciation resonating in his words as he adapted his voice to the silent darkness that enveloped the upstairs corridor. “Nice poster.”

 

“Great book,” Kyle murmured back, feeling weirdly giddy as he played along with the secretive mood, “and the twins think it's creepy, which is a plus.”

Dan laughed quietly and in the flickering glare of the television that drifted up from the living room, his eyes seemed to light up with innocuous exhilaration, causing Kyle's stomach to do a weird little flip.

 

The boy's cramped bedroom was rather nicely done up and hadn't changed a whole lot since Kyle had moved out – apart from the fact that his wardrobe had been turned into a hiding spot for the family's copious collection of coats. Dominated by varying shades of blue, reflected in the teal bedding, the cerulean curtains and the turquoise ceiling lamp, it was equipped with a rickety bookcase (filled with well-thumbed science fiction classics and a laughably meagre Coca-Cola can collection), a threadbare multicoloured rug, a tiny desk with a battered swivel chair and a ridiculously squeaky bed. The wall next to it was entirely plastered with contrastless photographs, by courtesy of the perpetually broken printer in his dad's office – family snapshots, pictures of friends and lots and lots of photos of Peach and Zappa. Dan inspected them, smiling warmly.

“If I ignore the fact that two-thirds of these are cat pictures, this is almost cute,” he joked and Kyle shoved him playfully, prompting Dan to give a delighted laugh as he regarded a slightly blurry photo of pre-teen Kyle attempting to bake something or other with the no more than five-year-old twins. The small part of his nan's kitchen that was visible in the picture was completely covered in white dust and whilst Emma was doubling up with laughter, Jo looked like he was seconds away from bursting into a flood of tears. It was typically _them_ and Kyle smiled fondly as he thought back to the siblings' frantic attempts at washing the very memorable taste of flour out of their mouths.

 

“This is adorable,” Dan muttered, seeming to ponder for a moment before he exhaled audibly.

“I- what's it like? To have siblings, I mean.”

 

Kyle could see it in Dan's eyes, the genuine desire to _understand_ , and putting his hands on his hips, he frowned thoughtfully.

“It's nice, I guess – in an infuriating sort of way. Kind of amazing and annoying at the same time, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders and Dan blinked in confusion, looking faintly disappointed.

 

“Oh.”

 

The younger boy sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, anxious to find the right words.

“Alright, so ... this one time when they were four or five, must've been roughly around the same time that photo was taken, Em and Jo decided to run away, so they put two apples in a lunch box and hid in the apple tree at the back of the neighbours' garden ... which, you know, is _full of apples_.”

Dan laughed to himself and rolling his eyes, Kyle carried on.

“I was looking after them at the time cause we were on summer break and mum and dad were at work. I used to really freak out over the whole _responsible oldest brother_ thing cause ... I-I don't know, I guess I was scared of fucking up and disappointing my parents. So, not knowing where the hell they'd disappeared to, I went out and looked for them for _hours_ , walking up and down the streets, shouting their names, sobbing.” He shook his head and scoffed. “Then I went back home, scared shitless, and found them sitting on the sofa, all chuffed and comfy – apparently they'd been eating waffles and ice cream next door.”

Dan studied him silently, a sombre look on his face, and Kyle smiled sheepishly.

“For some reason, that's the story I always think of first when people ask about those two – I guess it sums up our relationship pretty well. I was absolutely terrified that something horrible might have happened and I swore I'd be so fucking mad at them. Probably lost ten years of my life that day, but all I felt when I found them was overwhelming joy – I'd genuinely never been so relieved in my life. And hey, now I can even laugh about it.”

 

Kyle glanced at Dan who was looking increasingly wistful.

_Way to ruin the mood._

“The point is,” he explained, “they can be little brats but I love them to death. And what do I get in return? They try to marry me off and threaten my friends.”

 

Dan burst out laughing and Kyle sniggered, shaking his head incredulously.

“I'm really sorry about that by the way,” he said, “I swear she's never done anything like it.”

 

Chuckling, the older man rubbed a sleeve across his eyes. “Don't worry about it. It was kind of sweet – they obviously love you a lot.”

 

“Yeah,” Kyle let out a long breath, “Emma really liked Lily as well. I think she was upset when I broke up with her.”

 

A heavy silence sank down on them and Kyle felt the strong urge to slap himself. He _had_ to stop bringing up his ex. Wallowing in unpleasant memories really wasn't an appropriate conversation opener and certainly not a topic he wanted to discuss with Dan of all people – especially not after all that the older man had agreed to do to get her off his back.

“I- did I ever thank you? _Properly_ , I mean?”

 

Dan tilted his head questioningly and Kyle shuffled his feet.

“For doing everything you did for me. To help with, uh, my _problem_.”

 

A hint of confusion ghosted across the other's face before he forced a weary smile.

“You don't have to thank me, Ky. I never really did anything.”

 

Kyle stepped up to his friend, locking eyes with the shorter man as he lay a hand on his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“You did more than I deserved. So ... _thank you_.”

 

A spark of protest flared in Dan's eyes, momentarily embedded in the stunning blue before it slowly melted away and gave place to something much softer, something that Kyle could not quite decipher.

“That's what friends are for, isn't it?” Dan finally whispered, staring at his feet. He looked _lost_ and Kyle had the unsettling feeling that he was waiting for him to read between the lines only to discover that the younger man was painfully poor-sighted.

 

The conversation was ended abruptly when the unmistakable sound of the front door snapping shut resounded through the house, followed by Jo's ceaseless chattering. Kyle laughed to himself as he caught the words _Brontosaurus_ and _Velociraptor_ , and glancing at Dan once more, he grinned apologetically.

“We have about thirty seconds before my mum comes barging in,” he warned, “and she _will_ hug you.”

 

 

 

As anticipated, Mrs Simmons instantly took a shine to Dan, locking him in her arms as if she hadn't realised there was something missing in her life until the very second she laid eyes on him, and to his credit, the older man endured the crushing outburst of fondness with much more dignity than embarrassment. The latter, Kyle's own emotions about the encounter made up for as he felt himself flush at his mother's asseverations that Dan was _truly such a handsome boy_ and that Kyle had _practically raved about him_. As ever, his dad reliably injected himself into the conversation at exactly the right moment to counterbalance his wife's extroverted presence with a tranquil, collected _“Emma says she's starving to death”_.

 

Consequently, they ordered an impressive stack of pizzas for dinner and Dan ate one slice before he claimed he was stuffed (though Kyle, having undergone the harrowing process of meeting a friend's parents himself, had no trouble recognising the feelings of awkwardness and unfounded indecency) whilst Emma and Jonathan brazenly _devoured_ the pepperoni pizza until their older brother was quite certain that everyone was starting to feel sick.

 

“So, Dan,” his mother finally made her voice heard after having contained herself for a remarkable period of time, “Kyle says you're studying English literature?”

The older boy nodded timidly.

“Any idea what you want to do when you're done?”

 

“Um,” Dan started, a slight tremor distinguishable in his voice, and Kyle slung his arm around the back of his friend's chair in silent support, “m-maybe journalism, but I'm not sure yet.”

 

“Well, it's a highly interesting and very versatile field to be working in,” Mr Simmons commented calmly, “but there's no rush to decide now, you boys have all the time in the world to, say, _figure things out_.” He shot Kyle a meaningful look, raising his brows as if the young man was missing something of great importance.

 

“Oh, absolutely!” his wife asserted quickly, “I only decided to become a nurse at age twenty-seven. I actually studied to be a teacher and sort of changed course at the last minute.”

 

Fiddling with the hem of his jumper, Dan seemed to work up the courage to express himself. “I-I'd actually like to make music some day, but ... well, my dad says it has no future and he's probably right. But that's- it's my dream, I guess.”

 

Mrs Simmons' eyes widened and her son sighed, knowing exactly what she was about to say.

“That's wonderful! Kyle is also very gifted in music, you two should try and work something out!”

She looked as excited as Dan looked mortified and Kyle couldn't help but chuckle.

 

“Mum, I don't think me slamming some keys should be called _gifted_ ,” he joked and the older man glanced at him with a curious look in his eyes.

 

“What do _you_ play?” Jo asked Dan around a mouthful of pizza and his mother shot him a disapproving look.

 

“The piano, mainly,” Dan answered quietly and Kyle had a feeling that his friend already regretted bringing up the topic – or perhaps he had not expected anybody to be interested in what he was passionate about. The thought alone had Kyle's stomach in knots.

 

“He sings as well, _apparently_ ,” he added with feigned affront and Dan reddened quickly.

 

“I-I'm not very good.”

 

“That's a lie.”

 

“You haven't even heard me!”

 

“I trust Woody's judgement.”

 

“You're scared of Woody.”

 

Kyle grasped his chest dramatically. “I am _not_.”

 

“Yes, you are,” Dan replied, crossing his arms and smirking.

 

“I am absolutely-”

 

“You sound like granny and grandpa when they fight over whether or not grandpa ate chocolate after brushing his teeth,” Emma intervened with a mildly disgusted look on her face and Kyle answered with a fake laugh.

 

“I am _not_ scared of Dan's friends,” he assured his family once more, then glanced at his parents who were sat in perfect silence, smiling knowingly. A deep groan escaped Kyle's lips.

“Okay, but- he broke the drum kit!” he finally whined and took a remonstrative bite of the cold pizza crust on his plate. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dan smiling to himself and, well – so long as _he_ was happy, so was Kyle.

 

“Right,” Mr Simmons said, clearing his throat in an effort to steer the conversation in a different direction, “what do your parents do, Dan?”

 

“Oh, my dad works at the British Library in London.”

 

Jonathan immediately perked up. “Wow, that's so cool! He must be, like, _really_ smart!”

 

“What about your mum?” Emma asked, ignoring her twin, and when Kyle saw a touch of _pain_ clouding Dan's eyes, he held his breath as a sense of foreboding tightened his chest.

 

“She, uh – she died.”

 

Kyle felt a cold twinge around his heart. Here he was, introducing his friend to his family – yet despite feeling like he had always been destined to _find_ Dan, he didn't know the first thing about him. He opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but his mother beat him to it.

 

“Darling, I'm so sorry.”

She rubbed a comforting hand over Dan's arm and the boy nodded to himself, putting on a brave face – and Kyle wanted nothing more than to hug him tightly and never let go.

 

“How'd she die?” Emma inquired with a clarity that cut through the silence like a knife and Kyle shot her a serious glare.

 

“Sweetheart ...” Mrs Simmons began quietly but before she could lecture the young girl, her husband rose from the table with a discreet harrumph, laying his hands on his spouse's shoulders and smiling at everyone.

 

“Now, let's have some ice cream, shall we? There's vanilla, mango and pistachio, let me take your orders.”

 

While Emma and Jonathan were tripping over one another trying to convince their father to let them have three scoops of ice cream, Kyle watched Dan closely. He seemed miles away, picking lightly at the dark wood of the table as he stared into space, and Kyle shuffled closer to him to lay a reassuring hand on his back. When Dan looked up, the younger man could almost see the memories swimming in his blue eyes, distant and full of nostalgia.

“You okay?” he whispered and Dan replied with a forced smile and a curt nod.

 

“Fine,” he assured his friend a little too quickly and Kyle bit down on his lip. Now was probably not the time to ignite a fundamental debate about the importance of sharing one's feelings, but he wanted to console Dan, to say something like _I'm sorry about your mum_ , or _I'm sorry I didn't know_.

 

_I'm sorry I never asked about your family when I told you everything about mine._

 

He swallowed hard and glanced at his own mother who was regarding the two with a concerned look in her eyes. She smiled softly and Kyle resorted to stroking his friend's back comfortingly.

_Not now._

 

“So, what can I get you two?” Mr Simmons interrupted his eldest son's train of thought and Kyle blinked at him in surprise.

 

“What?”

 

“Pardon me,” his mum corrected and Kyle sighed.

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“Which ice cream would you like?”

 

Kyle eyed Dan once more, then sat up straight and stretched his arms over his head.

“We should probably get going if we don't want to miss the fireworks. Leaving aside the fact that eating ice cream in winter is _so_ _wrong_.”

 

Jo glanced up, a flabbergasted look on his face. “Why?”

 

“Cause it's _freezing_ outside, why would I want to eat something _frozen_?”

 

“You're right,” Emma commented, raising her eyebrows, “only a lunatic would eat ice cream in winter. Or drink _tea_ in _summer_ , I mean,” she scoffed, “who on _earth_ would do such a thing.”

 

Kyle turned to his mother. “Your child is being sarcastic again.”

 

“ _My_ child? Sarcastic?” she asked, feigning shock, “surely, she would _never_.”

 

“Thank God I'm not related to any of you,” Kyle replied with a dashing smile and Dan huffed a laugh, prompting the tension in the younger man's chest to dissolve somewhat.

He was going to take Dan out and they were going to have a good time – and Kyle would do his damnedest to make sure that his friend could forget any and all worries, just for one night.

 

“Ready to see Britain's shittiest fireworks?”

 

 

/ /

 

 

Kyle's mum took the boys to the unassuming winter themed fair which was located about ten minutes from the family's house, surrounded by a sea of street lights at the foot of a small hill that towered above the sleepy town, and Dan was striving bravely against the embarrassment evoked by the rather unsubtle remarks Mrs Simmons directed at her son.

“Sweetheart, doesn't Dan look _nice_?” she asked smoothly, adding an amiable swat of the hand that elicited an indignant outcry from the passenger seat.

“Go on! Tell him how nice he looks!”

 

Clearing his throat, Kyle looked up from the bright screen of his mobile phone that illuminated the surprisingly spacious interior of the car somewhat and turned around, red in the face and a sombre look in his eyes.

“You- you look nice, Dan.”

 

“Um ... thanks, s-so do you.”

In truth, the older man had thought about packing a change of clothes, something nicer to wear to the festival – perhaps the outfit that Kyle had complimented him on last week – but he was scared of being _obvious_ , of making an utter fool of himself. Dan didn't need yet another reminder that Kyle was _miles_ out of his league, especially now, wearing his laced up boots, a soft grey sweater and the leather jacket that made him look like he had fallen right out of a fashion magazine.

They drove through the half-dark that now wrapped its wings around the fields and streets and homes much earlier than in the summer and the swirling lights seemed out of focus, blurred by the raindrops that were running down the windows, trembling in the icy airflow.

Why couldn't Dan be different? Not _different_ the way he was now, not different as in _weird_. Different as in somebody Kyle could like, somebody he could be attracted to and fall in love with.

Different as in _better_.

But as things were, he was just Dan, the boy that Kyle was friends with because he seemed to believe that he owed him some kind of a favour. Surely enough, they got along swimmingly, appeared to have formed a strange sort of bond even – but at the end of the day, Kyle was paying back a debt, wasn't he?

Dan sighed inadvertently and Kyle glanced up again, regarding him apprehensively.

“Everything alright?”

 

“Oh, y-yeah.”

 

“You sure you're gonna be warm enough?”

 

Dan peered down at his own clothing, at the ripped jeans and the holes in his trainers, at the flimsy denim jacket and the oversized, dark green knit jumper which Mr Simmons had urged him to wear, lest he should _catch his death of cold_.

“I'll be fine,” he reaffirmed and for a split second, his eyes met the older woman's in the rear-view mirror, scepticism written all over her kind features.

 

“Honey, please do share the scarf if he needs it, will you?” she implored Kyle who grinned and held up the knitwear for Dan to inspect. It had a nice, _rustic_ pattern and was white, dark yellow and grey – apparently, Grandma Simmons had knitted it.

 

“Oh, alright. Thank you.”

 

She smiled and hummed to herself, seeming satisfied for the moment as Kyle continued giving her directions. They pulled into the deserted car park of a charming little corner shop and Kyle quickly jumped out of the car and contemplated the shadowy street ahead of them, hands on his hips.

 

“Ten o'clock Kyle, you hear me?”

 

The young man huffed a laugh. “Mum, I'm an adult, you can't give me a curfew.”

 

“Not a _second_ later,” she insisted jokingly, blowing him a kiss as a mischievous glint lit up her green eyes. The family resemblance was uncanny.

“Have fun, boys!”

 

As she drove away, Dan had to admit to himself that, despite the rain having stopped, he was proven wrong shockingly fast as the damp cold started to creep through his clothes and seep into his bones, making him feel half frozen within minutes, and without letting the older man's protests faze him, Kyle stepped in front of Dan and slung the thick scarf around his neck.

“It's five minutes up the hill,” Kyle announced, beaming as he commenced the ascent, “when we're there, I'll buy you a hot drink.”

 

“But- now _you're_ cold,” Dan mumbled as he caught up and Kyle rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

 

“I'll survive,” he promised and they made their way up the dimly lit road in silence, though Dan repeatedly caught Kyle looking at him from the corner of his eye until a nagging nervousness filled the pit of his stomach and he buried his nose in the warm fabric of the scarf. It smelled of the same flowery laundry detergent that clung to Kyle's clothes.

Nudging Dan gently, the younger boy pointed to the rooftop of a three-storey building at the end of the street and at the swaying gondolas that were _just_ visible behind it, and as soon as they turned the last corner, Dan could see the modest festival's overladen entrance that consisted of a large, round metal arch decorated with spray-painted fake plants and golden plastic bells. Two glitter reindeer were stood on either side (looking the worse for wear) and a set of tinny loudspeakers was blasting out supposedly _festive_ music from a small pop-up shop next to the gate. The booth itself was covered in big, blue ribbons and the teenager at the window was busy blowing gum bubbles and examining his reflection whilst looking bored out of his brains.

 

Kyle glanced at Dan, one eyebrow raised. “Hideous, isn't it?”

The older man couldn't help but laugh.

“I swear, there's decent food though and last year, they had a fancy coffee stall that sold the _best_ chai tea.” Kyle smiled. “Wanna go look for it?”

 

“God yes.”

 

They strolled down the narrow alleys that led past vendors praising their own products to the sky, the Belgian waffles and chocolate crêpes, mulled wine and home-made speculoos sold in tins bearing photographs of snowy landscapes, and the sweet smells mingled with the spicy and brought forth a waft of winter festivity that almost made Dan forget that the holiday was still a good month away. Kyle seemed to have a vague idea where they were going, striding purposely down the makeshift gravel pathways until Dan got caught between two cackling women and fell behind somewhat.

_Ah_ , now he remembered why he generally avoided these events: _crowds_ , not his favourite thing in the world by a long shot. It was almost as if he was able to forget about all these issues for a while when they were together, like he was shielded from all the words and actions and _people_ that stoked his fear of getting hurt and free to enjoy what his surroundings had to offer so long as Kyle stayed by his side, but now that the younger man was a good five steps ahead of him, the mass of bodies seemed to close in on Dan once more, an unmoving wall of wildly gesticulating hands and strange, unreadable faces, and every jostle that made him stumble and each roaring laughter that reached his ears was too much, too loud, too-

A hand wrapped itself around Dan's fingers and as soon as his mind registered the cold sensation of smooth silver rings, he grabbed it tightly, letting it pull him into an emptier lane.

 

“You alright?” Kyle asked over the noise of the theatrical, smoke-enshrouded ghost train they were standing next to and Dan glanced up at him, trying to slow down his erratic breathing. He could only nod and when a tall woman stormed past them and bumped rather rudely into Dan's back, Kyle scoffed and wrapped his arms protectively around the shorter man who shut his eyes and let himself sink into the warm embrace, blanking out the babel of voices around them as he pressed his cheek against the soft leather. And of course, Dan's heart chose this very moment to remind him that he had truly forgotten what comfort felt like until he had met Kyle, until he had found himself in the tall man's arms and held his hands and kissed his-

 

“Ugh, don't say it.”

 

Dan stared at him. “What?”

 

Kyle shook his head, frowning. “You already hate every second of this and I was stupid enough to think you might find it enjoyable. _I_ don't even think it's enjoyable.”

 

Letting out a shaky breath, Dan swallowed around the tightness in his throat, trying a small smile.

“You said something about tea?” he asked, just loud enough for the taller man to hear over the noisy bustle and Kyle shot him a lopsided grin, letting his gaze wander searchingly before he pulled Dan towards a pleasantly unoccupied part of the cramped space.

The targeted stall was decorated with an abundance of silver stars and long panels of dark red fabric and an alluring mélange of aromas greeted them when they drew closer to the welcoming warmth. Kyle made Dan sit on a low, stout bench that was stood conveniently next to the booth while he ordered their drinks and as he felt his shoulders relax ever so slowly, Dan let his gaze meander over the rosy-cheeked children, the exasperated mums and dads and smiling grandparents, the teenagers hanging about as if they considered themselves too good to do anything but look unapproachable and the couples wandering about, arms around each other and breathing puffy white clouds into the sharp autumn air. Dan felt a spike of envy run through him, a sense of longing that slowly clawed at his heart, and he sighed and shoved his hands between his knees in an attempt to defrost them.

 

“Here,” Kyle suddenly announced to his right and handed Dan a tall, dark blue ceramic mug that was filled to the brim with a sweet-smelling, cream-coloured drink and decorated with a single star anise.

 

“Thanks,” Dan sighed in appreciation and took the cup eagerly, “next time, I'm buying.”

 

“Not if I can help it.”

 

Dan eyed the younger boy suspiciously. “What are you planning?”

 

A cheeky grin lit up Kyle's face. “To spoil you until you're completely sick of it?”

 

_To spoil you until I don't have to make it up to you anymore._

_To spoil you until we're quits and I can move on._

Dan blinked, feeling uncomfortably weightless as a question suddenly dawned on him, a gnawing notion that trickled into his thoughts like poison and made his heart skip a beat.

 

Did their friendship have an expiration date?

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled sullenly, “I'm sick of it already.”

 

Kyle's face fell, his eyes clouded with defeat, and Dan wished he could pluck his words out of the air, _undo_ them.

“I-I mean- I didn't mean that. I'm just not used to being treated like this.”

 

Kyle huffed. “With _decency_?”

 

“Like I _matter_.”

 

Kyle stared at him and shook his head slowly, haltingly. “Come on now, Dan. Your friends-”

 

“-know how difficult I am,” Dan sighed and shut his eyes. “I'm the guy who doesn't get invited out anymore because I always say no anyway. I'm the friend you don't tell stuff because I seem like I don't care, cause that's just what I'm like and that's what people think about me and-”

 

“I know you care,” Kyle stated matter-of-factly, a sober look in his warm eyes, “and I know your friends care a great deal about you. And,” he hesitated for a moment before he dropped his gaze to the mug in his hands, one finger circling the white rim, “and I know _I_ care a lot about you. And by a lot I mean-”

He looked up again and when their eyes met, Dan was absolutely convinced that he had never looked upon anyone quite as beautiful.

“A _lot_.”

Kyle took a cautious sip of the hot drink and as his eyes fluttered shut, he smiled to himself.

“This gets better every year.”

 

Dan huffed something that he knew sounded like a terrible mix between a sob and a laugh and ran the back of his hand over his eyes before taking a small sip himself.

“Holy _shit_ ,” he breathed and Kyle's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

“Right?” he exclaimed, shuffling closer to Dan until their knees bumped together and slinging an arm around his shoulders to pull him close, and Dan's breath hitched in his throat when the younger man pressed a firm kiss to his temple and chuckled into his hair.

“No more being mopey, yeah? You're amazing and everyone adores you and you _damn well know it_.”

 

 

 

They had barely finished the savoury tea before the younger man began urging his friend to choose something to eat – his treat, of course – and it wasn't as if Dan wasn't hungry (he was positively _famished_ ) but unfortunately, he was incredibly clumsy and it wasn't hard to predict that half of the food was going to end up anywhere _but_ his mouth, which was a problem since, well, he had the biggest fucking crush on Kyle and was trying to retain at least _some_ dignity in front of him – and honestly, nobody had _ever_ looked sexy eating a massive chocolate-dipped crêpe.

But _oh_ , Dan had been too quick to judge because after two cautious bites of the admittedly mouth-watering treat he had chosen, he noticed Kyle ogling the food himself and a burst of carelessness hit the older man out of nowhere.

 

“You want a bite?” he asked quietly and after staring at his friend for a moment, Kyle began nodding vigorously.

Dan was pretty sure that the sight of Kyle leaning over him, one hand wrapped loosely around his friend's wrist in an attempt to steady his trembling hand and slowly taking a big bite of the chocolaty crêpe, closing his eyes and humming with relish, was going to be burned into his memory for all eternity.

“ _You can have me if you want,”_ was what he wished he could say, but instead all that left his mouth was a long breath followed by a strained, “You can have it if you want.”

 

Kyle pulled back, chewing intently and with a deep frown on his face – and Dan was fighting to contain the laughter that was bubbling inside him.

“I-I'm sorry, you just- you've got-,” and he motioned vaguely at his own face to hint at the powdered sugar that was dusting Kyle's lips and moustache. A grin spread across the younger man's face as he raised a hand and slowly ran his long, beringed fingers through his dark beard to free it of the sweet powder.

God, Dan hated when he did that.

 

“Better?”

 

_(He loved it.)_

 

“Oh- uh, y-yeah.”

 

It was becoming darker by the minute now and the radiant, flashing lights were making it increasingly difficult for the boys to focus their tired eyes on their hectic environment, and so Kyle suggested looking around for a nice spot to watch the _lame-ass fireworks_ , somewhere darker and quieter, and as a _precautionary measure_ , so Kyle phrased it, the younger man silently held Dan's hand and led him safely through the crowd and towards the back entrance of the small spectacle. How strange and wonderful, Dan mused, that all those blinking neon bulbs and sellers doing their absolute best to loudly advertise their cute little honey jars and cheap plastic toys, failed to stop him from focusing his attention on Kyle alone – on his profile that stood out sharply against the vibrant backdrop, his eyes that were so dark and alluring and full of tender patience, his soft hair illuminated by the pink fairy lights behind their backs. The shadows that shrouded his face in darkness were eerie and blood-red, and his hand was clasped tightly around Dan's, their fingers entwined as though they were made to fit perfectly together – and yet again, it caught Dan off-guard, the sensation of unmitigated bliss that made him feel like he was part of something that went beyond his understanding.

_Everything is fine as long as you're with me._

_However long it may last._

 

They clambered up the steep, moss-covered hill, giggling as they slipped and nearly fell about half a dozen times on the muddy ground, but Kyle held Dan upright each and every time, helping him to the top of the cursed slope where they found the perfect, deserted spot, a couple of streets above what seemed to be the generally preferred and much-frequented viewpoint. They discovered a tiny bus shelter next to the road and sat on the uncomfortable metal bench to catch their breath, eyes scanning the daring blackness. They were granted an unobstructed view of the colourful fair that looked even smaller from up here, the faraway lights seeming _illusory_ and resembling glittering confetti while the gondolas that were still turning and turning without end looked as if they were attached to a hamster wheel. The beautiful night sky was clear and littered with stars and Dan decided that he had not felt this peaceful in a very long time.

A soft breeze rode across the tall grass, cold enough to make Dan shiver, and Kyle wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side.

“Five minutes,” the younger man sighed and sniffled slightly in the freezing air.

“You know,” he continued after a moment of quiet, chuckling, “the first time they organised all this, it was a _huge_ deal cause, well, nothing interesting ever happens in this goddamned place. I was, hm ... eleven or twelve then and everyone at school went and, like, agreed to steal alcohol from home and get drunk together.”

 

Dan snorted inadvertently. “ _Kids_ , am I right?”

 

Kyle laughed quietly. “I wanted to be cool, but there was no way I was gonna lie to my parents, so I filled an empty beer bottle with apple juice and rode my bike up here.”

 

The older man couldn't help a loud laugh escaping his lips. “That's honestly adorable.”

 

“Hey, I was one of the cool kids for, like, two hours!”

 

“Two hours, _wow_. That's got to be a record.”

 

Kyle shrugged. “I had to be home by six.”

 

Dan shook his head, grinning. “I wasn't cool at all, so I probably would've hung out with you either way. We could've shared the apple juice.”

 

Closing his eyes in relaxation, Kyle hummed to himself. “I bet you were the cutest.”

 

Dan felt himself blush and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was a lonely little bookworm.”

 

Kyle sniggered quietly and leaned his head against Dan's, sighing happily.

“We would've had a lot of fun together. No doubt about it.”

 

“I never really had a lot of fun, to be honest,” Dan admitted softly and Kyle shifted to look at him.

 

“Why?”

 

“Ugh, it's ... let's not start with the sob stories,” Dan joked, but Kyle kept regarding him intently until the older man caved with a deep sigh.

“There's not much to it. We moved around a lot because of my dad's work, so I never had many friends. My mum was always home but I didn't see her all that much because she was usually holed up in her room. She didn't want me to go outside by myself because she had this irrational fear that I was going to get hurt, so I- I only had Ralph, really.”

 

Kyle stroked Dan's shoulder gently and the older man felt a wave of melancholy wash over him. Sharing his sadness had never come naturally to him.

_Don't you dare cry now._

“I'm really sorry, Danny.” Kyle looked deeply into his eyes and once again, Dan felt bare in front of him, defenceless. The younger man lowered his voice to a whisper. “About your mum, I mean. I'm sorry.”

 

At this very moment, a raucous hiss cut through the still air and with a thundering bang, the first firework erupted above them, a glistening bouquet of white and silver that released a shower of sparks into the night sky, striving to unite with the unreachable stars before they tumbled towards the freezing ground where they died silently, forgotten before they touched the grass.

 

“Mum loved fireworks,” Dan whispered to no one in particular and the tears in his eyes turned the following light explosion into a foggy fantasy.

Suddenly, he could feel Kyle's cold fingertips grazing his skin, forcing him out of his head as the younger man cupped his cheek to make Dan look at him, and when he blinked away the unshed tears, Dan saw Kyle's face right in front of him, those soft, thoughtful features, those brown eyes full of-

 

_Love?_

 

“Dan,” he breathed, his dark, vulnerable eyes scanning the other's face sincerely. There was a strange glint in them, an aura of something that Dan hadn't seen before, a dangerous promise that made his heart race as Kyle looked straight into his soul. He hesitated, seeming unsure of himself, but ultimately, whatever question was raging inside him appeared to gain the upper hand and Kyle inhaled shakily, looking uncharacteristically insecure.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Another deafening crack and the green light that followed bathed Kyle's glowing skin in an all but mysterious light, touching the stunning eyes that the older man adored. Dan's heart was hammering in his chest, stumbling as Kyle's breath ghosted over his face. He swallowed.

 

“I don't know, can you?”

 

He could.

They struggled to find each other in the dark until their lips met clumsily and Dan melted into the warm, electrifying touch of skin on skin. The kiss tasted sweet and hungry and Dan had no time to question the sincerity of what was happening before Kyle grasped the back of his neck firmly, turning fully towards him as he deepened the kiss at the same time as brushing his cold fingertips along Dan's hairline. The older man shivered, relishing the warmth of their bodies as he leaned further into Kyle and fumbled blindly for his jacket. He needed something to hold on to, to ground him and make him believe that this was _real_ , and when he gave the smooth leather a desperate tug, Kyle hummed contentedly and Dan answered with a surprised gasp as the younger man's free hand came to rest on his jaw, fingers slowly slipping underneath the borrowed scarf and lightly rubbing at the older boy's neck before he tilted his head and caressed Dan's lips with the tip of his tongue, gingerly and affectionately.

 

_So this is what it feels like._

 

This was it, the first time that someone kissed Dan as if they _needed_ to. Not in a rush, nor careless and hasty like an unavoidable obligation – no, gradual and deep and intimate. Slowly and delicately their tongues merged, their parted lips falling into a secret rhythm with the motions of their bodies as they held each other. The bright sparks of the fireworks waned in comparison to the flames that flickered around Dan's beating heart as he raised one trembling hand and ran his fingers along Kyle's stubbled jaw and down his neck, resting them over the dip between his collarbones where he could feel the soothing beat of his heart. Kyle pulled back slightly for a second, panting as he stared at Dan as if he was truly seeing him for the first time, then leaned forward slowly, kissing the older man's cheek, then the corner of his mouth before their lips fell together one more time. It felt _effortless_ despite how mindful Kyle clearly was of his every movement and how closely he was paying attention to what was happening between them.

Both boys drew back at the same time, gazing at one another before Kyle leaned their foreheads together and they shared a last affectionate kiss, and Dan took a deep breath, one hand still clenched tightly around Kyle's jacket and the other lying loosely on his shoulder.

 

“We kind of missed the fireworks,” Dan uttered all but silently and Kyle continued regarding him, feverish eyes searching his face until they landed on his lips again. He swallowed and let go of Dan slowly and the emptiness where his touch had been made the older man fidget until Kyle took Dan's hand in his own, fingers stroking the pale skin as he leaned over to kiss Dan's cheek as softly as a feather's touch before resting his forehead on the shorter man's shoulder.

 

“We made our own, didn't we?” he whispered and they sat in heavy silence until the church clock chimed ten and they wordlessly agreed to go home.

 


	21. Unspoken Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shitty filler chapter! Everyone loves a filler, right? Right?? Good.  
> Seriously though - hopefully, you won't mind a bit of disgustingly soft & fluffy trash and I hope that some of you still like this story, at least a tiny bit.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter, it made me start working on this one even though I didn't feel like it.  
> Love you all and hope this doesn't disappoint ♥

On the way home from the bus shelter, the two boys scarcely talked at all – apart from “Mind the step” and “Oh, thanks” – and the pressing silence weighed heavily on their hearts. Though unable to speak for whatever might be going through his friend's head, Kyle himself felt far too stunned and too agitated to think of anything to say that was _a)_ even vaguely coherent and _b)_ wouldn't result in him bursting into a terrible onslaught of thoughtless phrases that he would never be able to take back.

He had no idea what on earth had incited him to kiss Dan, still felt thoroughly confused about the significant _incident_ that had emerged between them less than an hour ago and clueless as to where he was supposed to begin searching for some semblance of sense within the emotions that were making his head spin when he watched Dan from the corner of his eye.

_Why the hell didn't you turn me down?_

The answer seemed _transparent_ and still, Kyle was not quite prepared to acknowledge it just yet, seeing as realising that he should probably figure out his _own_ feelings first was sufficient to make him feel breathless and overwhelmed. But once he looked beyond the terrifying chaos, Kyle discovered an aspect of his thinking that remained clear as daylight, one thing he would never second-guess – the fact that their kiss had been fucking _perfect_.

So why did he feel like he was being dishonest?

Skidding rather than walking down the last stretch of the treacherous hill, Kyle, in an effort to help his friend jump onto the pavement, had taken Dan's hand and then simply _“forgotten”_ to let go of it – and obvious as the move may have been, it did serve its purpose as they ended up walking down the streets hand in hand, all the way back. Kyle overlooked the fact that he had intended to take the last bus home so they wouldn't be exposed to the biting cold forever; he hardly took note of the soft drizzle that was starting to dampen their clothes – all he felt was Dan's hand in his own, all he saw was his face, half-hidden behind the borrowed scarf, all he could keep his mind on the swelling warmth inside his chest.

 

When they finally reached the dimly lit house around eleven o'clock, the younger boy whipped out his keys and unlocked the front door with a soft click, then squeezed Dan's hand lightly to get his attention.

“The twins will be in bed by now,” he murmured and put a finger to his lips and Dan nodded in understanding, looking just as confused as his friend felt.

They entered quietly and Kyle pushed the door shut, watching as Dan silently pulled off the wet scarf and twisted it around and around in his hands. He looked melancholy, distracted, _expectant_ , and Kyle couldn't help himself as he raised his hand to touch Dan's face gently, to caress his cheek. The boy's hair was wet, adorably wavy and some of the floppy strands were glued to his forehead, and Kyle pulled his sleeve down over his hand, using the soft fabric of his sweater to dab his friend's damp skin gently – he should have remembered to bring an umbrella. What if Dan got sick because of him? They had to get changed quickly, his skin was so cold.

Muffled noises wafted from the living room into the hallway, along with the quivering radiance of the television that brightened the narrow space just enough to highlight the redness on Dan's cheeks and the questions that filled his eyes. God, they were so blue. So incredibly, unfathomably beautiful and blue.

And suddenly, the thought crossed Kyle's mind that maybe, just maybe, _now_ was enough. Perhaps the main objective being _let's see what happens next_ was good enough for the moment and maybe they could just be together now and rack their brains later, and with this resolve, he pulled Dan closer and relished the stunned and hopeful look on the shorter man's face as he rubbed their noses together. Sensing the other's breath on his skin, he let his free hand roam over Dan's chest where he felt his frenzied heartbeat through the rough knitwear and when Kyle's fingers reached the hem of the jumper, he took a weak breath and slowly slipped them underneath. Dan shuddered visibly at the cold touch of his hand as Kyle breathed harshly against his pale neck – he was feeling too hot suddenly. Maybe it was the shock of entering the warm house after walking in the freezing cold for so long.

Dan's own hand, though trembling like a leaf, came to rest over the younger man's heart and he dug his fingers into the grey sweater, and for a moment, Kyle was certain that Dan was going to push him away, but instead, he pulled him closer, bringing their bodies flush together as Kyle's hand gradually explored his warm skin. Their eyes finally met in the semi-darkness and there was no mistrust shining in the deep blue, just _want_. As if trying to nourish the taller boy's faint hope, Dan leaned forward and pressed a small, affectionate kiss to the corner of Kyle's mouth, then ghosted his lips over his cheek while the other's hand rested lightly on Dan's waist, feeling his rib cage rise and fall in tune with his heavy breaths.

Until the hallway light was switched on and the boys broke apart as if they had burned themselves, standing as far from each other as they possibly could in the narrow corridor as Dan frantically straightened his jumper and Kyle brushed a hand over his mouth in a cursory motion.

Mr Simmons blinked at them in surprise, then grinned.

“I'm sorry, boys, am I interrupting something?”

 

Kyle didn't need to see Dan's face to know how horrified his friend was likely to look and he himself flushed quickly as he shoved his hands into his pockets, failing spectacularly to put on an air of casualness.

“Uh, n-no, all good. What- what are you up to?”

_Way to be subtle._

 

Clearly attempting not to appear all too amused, his dad pressed his lips together and leaned against the door frame.

“Nothing much, just watching _Bake Off_ reruns. How was the fair?”

 

“Oh, s-same as always.”

 

“I see, I see.” Mr Simmons beamed at Dan who looked like he was ready to make a run for it. “How were the fireworks?”

 

Absolute stillness enveloped them as Dan seemed to struggle for words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he shot Kyle a desperate look full of secret memories and contained sentiments. He shuddered out a breath.

“Explosive,” was all he muttered and Kyle burst out laughing.

 

He hadn't even realised just _how_ tense he had been feeling ever since they had kissed, but now he finally sensed a wave of relief wash over him and he dragged a hand over his face as he sighed exasperatedly.

“Explosive indeed,” he murmured, looking only at Dan who was wearing a timid smile.

 

Mrs Simmons suddenly stuck her head out into the hallway, smiling curiously at her son.

“What's so funny?” she inquired and Kyle cleared his throat as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the overstuffed coat stand by the door, shaking his head.

 

“Nothing, mum. Thanks for driving earlier. I think we should go to bed now, it's been an eventful day.” He smirked at Dan who handed his friend the scarf without looking at him, red in the face and his shoulders hunched, and Kyle didn't miss the silent, knowing look that his parents exchanged before Mrs Simmons placed her hands on her hips and sighed.

 

“Alright then, I put the lilo in your room, Kyle,” she said and smiled warmly as she turned to look at Dan, “and if there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask, sweetheart.”

 

The older man nodded silently and they wished each other a good night before the boys slowly tiptoed up the creaking stairs, and when Dan carefully grasped his hand in the soothing dark, Kyle sensed a bud of euphoria inside him that he had never ever felt before.

 

 

/ /

 

 

Dan couldn't sleep.

It really wasn't very uncommon, seeing as he was a chronic insomniac, but considering the day's events and his current emotional turmoil, it was even less surprising.

_Kyle kissed me_ – those three words had been at the forefront of his thinking for the past hours, clear and loud amongst the thunderstorm of anxious questions and contradictory emotions that made him toss and turn, groan and rub his hands over his face in frustration. Lying on his side, Dan glanced down at the mattress on the floor next to Kyle's bed and the vague outline of the unmoving form that was fast asleep on it. He listened closely to the barely distinguishable sound of his friend's even breaths.

_He kissed me._

The lilo was too short for Kyle's long limbs and once again, Dan felt guilty about giving in to the boy's insistence to leave the bed to him – and once more, he regretted not being brave enough to ask Kyle to join him under the soft covers. He buried his face in the warm blanket as his eyes remained fixed on the gentle curves of the younger man's body.

_We kissed._

And while there was no denying the facts, what haunted Dan was the _why_. Naturally, his demons had an interpretation at the ready as soon as the question formed in his head.

_He felt sorry for you._

It made sense. Dan had talked about his mum, had been close to tears and clearly upset. So perhaps Kyle had wanted to distract him, to comfort him, or maybe Dan had not been as successful in hiding his infatuation as he thought he was and the younger man had decided to let him wallow in his wishful thinking in the hopes that it might console him.

Or shut him up.

Dan squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. Why couldn't he just believe that Kyle had kissed him simply and factually because he _bloody well wanted to_? Why couldn't he defy his _stupid_ anxiety and purely take things for what they were, accept the most apparent explanation instead of brooding over a way to wreck every positive thing that had ever happened to him?

Turning on his back, Dan let his eyes roam over the tiny luminous star stickers on the ceiling of the small bedroom until his eyes started burning.

_But then again, why would somebody like him want to kiss someone like me?_

Dan sat up as quietly as possible, stepping over Kyle's motionless body and opening the door to sneak out into the hallway. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do when he got there, but he needed to look at something other than the details of his friend's room which he had memorised hours ago. Preferably _before_ he went insane.

He stood in the gloomy corridor and listened to the storm outside the window, ruffling the trees and whirling around the fallen leaves, and a glance at the luminous dial of his watch revealed the time to be _3:48 am_.

Slowly and heedfully, Dan slunk down the wooden stairs and into the eerily desolate living room, crossed the smooth floorboards and entered the kitchen. He left the door open just a crack and switched on a tiny worktop spotlight before sitting on the same chair which he had occupied all those hours ago when drinking tea with his crush had seemed like a sensational development.

There was a big, colourful calendar on the wall to his right, the small squares filled with birthdays, appointments and family events. The one bearing yesterday's date said _Kyle & Dan_, written in bright green marker. The fridge was covered in postcards, sent from all over the world and attached with an assortment of heart-shaped magnets. Three flowerpots on the narrow windowsill, painted with wonky stars and tiny orange flowers, contained basil, chives and rosemary.

Dan let his head fall back against the wall with a quiet thud, knees drawn to his chest and eyes closed in resignation – he hated this, hated being trapped in his thoughts and memories and controlled by deep-rooted wariness, expecting any and all fondness directed at him to be a lie or a trick when all he wanted was for _this_ to be real and for Kyle to be serious about them.

But he couldn't help feeling like he didn't _belong_.

In this house, with this family.

With Kyle.

 

The young man could not be certain how long he had sat in the half-light, irritated with himself and the world and brooding over the intricacies of being in love, when the door was pushed open quietly and Mrs Simmons appeared in the doorway in her pyjamas, squinting against the light and almost scaring Dan witless. She looked worried as she wrapped her bathrobe around herself and sat down next to him.

“Something wrong, darling?”

 

The boy straightened his back and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“No,” he lied, “I just- I can't sleep. I'm sorry if I woke you up, Mrs Simmons. I-I'll go back upstairs.”

 

She reached out, lay a hand on his arm and smiled patiently.

“Let me make you a cuppa,” she whispered, “green tea. It might help.”

 

It wouldn't, Dan had tried about a hundred times. But he still nodded his agreement and listened to the brisk autumn wind rushing through the back garden while his friend's mother brewed two perfect cups of hot tea. They sat in silence until the drinks were cool enough to savour them sip by tiny sip and Mrs Simmons regarded Dan thoughtfully.

“Do you often have trouble sleeping then?” she asked in a concerned tone and Dan tried to avoid meeting her eyes as he frowned at the steaming tea and bit down on his cheek.

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“How long has this been going on?” she inquired further and Dan realised – this wasn't only his friend's caring mother speaking, there was also a distinct note of professionalism in her voice that could only belong to the experienced nurse.

 

“A few years,” Dan admitted quietly and she nodded to herself. “It- it's gotten better already with medication and stuff. It's just- when I'm anxious ...”

 

Mrs Simmons eyed him with a hint of cautiousness in her eyes. “What was it that made you feel anxious today?”

 

Dan swallowed. She was an intelligent woman, considerate and perceptive – and he almost wanted to tell her everything. How he felt like he wasn't worthy of breathing the same air as her son, how Kyle showed him all this positivity and affection that Dan would never be able to match because he was too ... _shattered_. He wanted to ask her opinion on the situation, the _kiss_ – after all, who could assess Kyle's behaviour better than his own mum?

Dan wanted to tell her how it broke his heart that they had welcomed him so kindly to their beautiful home that exuded trust and warmth when he knew he had nothing to offer in return. How he felt ripples of longing run through his body when he saw the unconditional love they all had for one another, and how he wanted to say that her patience and warm-heartedness reminded him of his own mother – but all it did was remind Dan that he hadn't known her as well as he wished he did.

As always, he shied away at the last second and put on a façade of naïvety.

“I-I don't know, probably just the unfamiliar surroundings,” he mumbled and she observed Dan with a look which made it clear that she _knew_ he wasn't being honest. The young man fidgeted his hands. She wasn't going to be resentful, was she?

 

After letting a moment of silence pass, she finally sighed deeply.

“Look, I know it can be intimidating, meeting people and feeling like you don't fit in – like you're so different from them that they just _have to_ misunderstand you, right? But trust me when I tell you that _different_ doesn't mean _worse_.”

Her green eyes seemed to bore into him, vehemently and with such intensity that Dan nodded despite himself.

“I felt that way when I met Kyle's father and he introduced me to his parents and his big, happy family. I was so out of my depth that I wanted to run and hide.” She shook her head. “But sticking around has its benefits. And with time, even the scariest aspects of being with someone become easier.”

Dan stared at her, unsure of what to say, what she _wanted_ him to say, and the woman smiled.

“You're welcome here, Dan. Just the way you are. You must feel like I'm not justified to say this because after all, what do I know about you? And yes, it's true that we've only just met, but there's something I _do_ know – Kyle cares a lot about you, much more than he's probably told you, and when my son loves somebody, then so do I.”

Dan clenched his teeth and blinked frantically, trying to will himself to choke back the tears that were gathering in his eyes. Mrs Simmons reached out and lay her hand on his cheek, and the boy knew that his lip was trembling terribly.

“If you ever need somewhere to crash or a place to find comfort, don't hesitate to come here, alright? Whatever you need, we've got you.”

 

How Dan had _longed_ to hear those very words, how he had yearned for a place that he could call home, a place where he was accepted and _loved_ as who he was – somewhere he didn't have to pretend that everything was fine and he wasn't hurting.

Could it really be this easy?

The young man didn't have it in him to question how the woman had just _known_ how he felt and he sniffled quietly, feeling a smile tugging at his lips that instantly reflected on Mrs Simmons' loving face, and the same tranquillity he felt within himself shone from her green eyes. They sat at the kitchen table until the early hours of the morning, when the storm had long died down and pale sunlight was beginning to creep up the walls, and they were still sipping tea whilst Dan listened to his friend's mother's vast collection of anecdotes that perfectly illustrated their turbulent family life and let her soothing voice chase away his raging doubts, his fear and his weariness.

Just for a moment.

 

 

/ /

 

 

Kyle awoke with a start at precisely 10:17 am, feeling like his brain was tied up in knots and squinting at Dan who was fumbling for his phone in an effort to silence the shrill shrieking that resounded through the room. Stretching his limbs contentedly and with a languid yawn, the young man blinked at the subdued daylight peeking through the curtains while his friend was having a (on his part) rather monosyllabic phone conversation with someone called _Dick_ , and when Dan let himself fall back into the pillows with a muffled groan, Kyle propped himself up on his elbow, raked a hand through his dark hair and watched the boy who had closed his eyes again, a small pout etched on his face. Kyle smiled. Dan looked _damn_ good even like this, drowsy and rumpled, and albeit having to snigger at the realisation that there was next to no difference between Dan's day-to-day and his _I-just-woke-up_ hair, the younger man caught himself eyeing the shape of his friend's body underneath the plain white T-shirt which, instead of accentuating Dan's fair complexion and thus making him look predictably ghostly, let him appear slightly more _careless_ than Kyle knew he was. The light cotton had ridden up some, revealing a few alluring inches of pale skin, and jumping up quietly, Kyle settled down on the edge of the squeaky bed, grinning to himself as he slowly ran his fingers down Dan's sides and then, as soon as the other began squirming beneath him, started tickling the boy's stomach lightly. Dan's eyes flew open and immediately, he tried to fight the other off under strident protest, but seeing as Kyle had the upper hand, there wasn't much that Dan could do other than admit defeat and try not to choke on his hiccup-like laughter.

“What was that? You want me to stop?”

Dan wheezed and the younger man tilted his head as if he was having trouble understanding him.

“I'm sorry, could you repeat that? Didn't quite catch it.”

And even though Kyle enjoyed having discovered an unexpected weak spot of Dan's and despite the fact that seeing the older man curl up laughing made him feel a staggering sense of contentment, the boy decided to take pity on his friend and chuckled to himself as he finally stilled his fingers and lay his head on Dan's heaving chest. The other's arms came around him instantly, his cold fingers sliding into Kyle's hair as he struggled to catch his breath, and the taller boy seriously contemplated crawling under the sheets and roaming his hands over Dan's soft skin when the door sprang open and Emma appeared in the doorway, watching them curiously and with her arms crossed. She had clearly stolen one of Kyle's hoodies again.

“Mum says you can come have breakfast whenever you're done doing whatever it is you're doing,” she said and turned around without another word, leaving the door wide open.

As she bounced down the staircase, Kyle could hear muffled shouts from the kitchen to which his sister answered with a heartfelt, “They're having a cuddle!”

 

Sitting up, the younger man cleared his throat, and eyeing Dan who was looking rather flustered and adorably dishevelled, he leaned down to place a feather-light kiss on the tip of his freckled nose.

“Good morning.”

 

“Morning,” Dan whispered back, yawning as if he hadn't slept all night, and Kyle got up to pull on a pair of floral socks.

 

“You know, my dad makes the _best_ breakfast.”

 

“Can't wait,” the older boy mumbled with a sleepy smile on his face and Kyle waited for him to gather himself before they shuffled down the wooden steps side by side.

 

-

 

Opposing the overcast skies that shattered any and all hopes of being granted a few more sunlit days before the imminent arrival of a harsh winter, the day flew by in a comfortable, blithesome and painfully _domestic_ blur.

After a sumptuous breakfast that had Dan in a good, sociable mood and left Kyle adding French toast to his mental _List of Things Dan Seems to Like_ , they ended up spending the afternoon in much the same manner as the rather lazy morning, huddled next to each other on the sofa to share warmth, eating home-baked biscuits and drinking sweet, milky tea, and Kyle was _perfectly happy_ – even though he had wanted to have a word with Dan, to talk about the kiss, about ... _them_. Because truth be told, people didn't just kiss for no reason, and the fact that Kyle had no regrets about what had happened but rather, on the contrary, wanted to kiss Dan senseless every time he so much as glanced at the older boy, wasn't just a confusion of emotions. Kyle wasn't sure how to label their relationship, wasn't willing to take that step just yet, but he needed Dan to comprehend that the _something_ that connected them meant the world to him, that he wasn't fooling around or treating his friend's feelings lightly. Kyle needed Dan to know that he thought about him _constantly_ , that he wanted to touch him and hold him, to be by his side and wake up with him. But alas, between Mrs Simmons imploring them to have a cup of the aromatic cocoa that she had spent half an hour perfecting (and as Dan put it, _how could they say no_ , especially faced with the laughable choice between exploring the frozen town centre and occupying the heated living room) and Mr Simmons offering to let Dan have a look at Kyle's most iconic childhood moments, a dusty VHS tape at the ready that instantly provoked his son to feel awfully embarrassed, Kyle failed to create a scenario in which he could talk to Dan without everyone else in the house being in on the conversation. However, the boy was willing to overlook his irritation as he regarded Dan watching five-year-old _Ky_ run along Brighton Beach with a colourful kite clutched in his little hand, and the smile on the man's face was so full of tenderness that Kyle felt as if his heart was melting into a tiny puddle.

But time really does fly, and much sooner than the young men would have liked, Mr Simmons reminded them that Dan should probably gather his belongings if he didn't want to miss his train home and Kyle had to acknowledge that for now, he had missed his chance to try to explain his feelings to the older boy. Funnily enough, watching Dan pack, the only thing that made Kyle feel minimally better about separating from his friend after acting so heart-grippingly _homely_ all day was the fact that Dan himself seemed genuinely disappointed about leaving.

His godfather was supposed to pick him up around three o'clock, so soon after giving thanks to Kyle's parents for their hospitality, the boys found themselves standing on a deserted platform, silently staring at the dusty timetables and hunching their shoulders against the biting wind.

 

“Wow, it's only about an hour's ride from here,” the older man murmured quietly and shuffled his shoes. They were mud-caked from their nightly hike and Kyle's heart skipped a beat as he glanced down at his own filthy trainers.

_Our little secret._

 

The young man stepped closer to his friend and grasped his hand shyly, brows drawn together as he brushed a thumb over Dan's pale skin. The coming week was their university's reading week and they were both going to stay home to catch up on their studies – and Kyle _really_ didn't like the idea of not seeing the older boy for a while. He frowned.

“Will you text me when you get there? Just so I know you arrived safely.”

 

Dan smiled as he glanced at their entwined hands.

“I will. What are you gonna do next week? I mean, apart from the obvious.”

 

The younger man shrugged. “Dunno. Emma asked if I could take her and Jo to see that new film, uh, _Coco_ or something. Oh, and Evie wanted to go to a gig at some club, I'm probably gonna call her, see if she's still up for it. What about you?”

 

Shrugging, Dan kept his gaze fixed on the grimy ground, looking rather underwhelmed.

“Nothing really. Maybe Ralph will show up at some point, but he was adamant about _actually studying_ this year.” He smiled wanly. “I'll probably do the same.”

 

Kyle nodded and they fell quiet for a moment until Dan cleared his throat, suddenly looking concerned and jittery.

“Ky, you- you're not mad, are you? Cause I-I know I said I'd stay all weekend – and I would if I could. I _want_ to. But my dad's-”

 

“God, Dan- of course I'm not mad.” Kyle hesitated. “I mean, I would've loved for you to stay, but we'll see each other soon.”

He smiled warmly and sighed.

“I do wish _soon_ would be sooner than ten days from now though,” he added quietly before he leaned in to bury his nose in Dan's wild hair, inhaling and exhaling softly as he pressed a kiss to his temple. The older boy had used his shower gel that morning and the familiar lemony scent clinging to his warm skin made Kyle feel a sense of excitement that had been missing from his life for quite some time. Dan responded in kind, sighing deeply as he slipped his hands under Kyle's jacket and hugged him tightly, fingers running up and down his back almost as if he was comforting the taller man. _God_ , Kyle loved holding him like this, loved that Dan _allowed_ him to do so now.

The obnoxious screeching of tyres made the boys jump and Dan moved back abruptly as his train pulled into the platform. He chuckled timidly as he picked up his duffel bag and stood irresolutely in front of the other boy, his reserved posture betrayed by the churning emotions in his blue eyes, the implied questions and uncertainties. He opened his mouth and Kyle held his breath in anticipation, but gazing up into his friend's eyes, Dan's lips merely twitched into a coy smile and with a curt wave of the hand, he quickly turned towards the door that slid open next to them with a hiss.

_Don't let him go._

_Don't let him leave wondering whether you regret what happened._

Feeling strangely bemused, Kyle reached out instinctively and rested a firm hand on Dan's arm, forcing him to turn around once more, and when the older boy faced him with a baffled expression, Kyle framed his face with his hands and kissed him softly on the lips.

The gentle touch could only have lasted a few seconds, but to Kyle, it felt like a lifetime had passed when Dan finally stumbled into the lighted compartment, his disconcerted gaze focused on Kyle alone as the doors shut slowly before him.

 

Kyle stood absolutely still, hands buried in his coat pockets and shivering in the brisk wind as the train slowly, ever so slowly, pulled away from the platform and became smaller and smaller until the young man could no longer see it.

It was going to be a long week.

 


	22. Four Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a very slow writer and I'm so sorry. Does anyone even remember what happened in the previous chapters once a new one is finally up??  
> This is sort of another filler again, but I swear it leads up to things, so please bear with me.  
> Thank you so much to all the amazing people commenting, I see you and I love all of you. ♥  
> Special thanks to maialec who actually went and made a playlist based on the story (what??), you're awesome!

**home** ( _noun_ )

: one's place of residence

: the social unit formed by a family living together

: a familiar or usual setting : congenial environment

_also_ : the focus of one's domestic attention

 

 

 

Dan had circled back to the ever-wakeful capital four days ago and had so far managed to ignore his duffel bag which (apart from a toothbrush and the rumpled T-shirt he slept in) had yet to be unpacked, tiptoeing around it like his sixteen-year-old self around his dad's nagging “is there a girl you like” questions. It exuded an appreciated air of departure that the young man was quite keen on holding on to for the time being, seeing as it allowed him to entertain the illusion that he wasn't _staying_ , but rather reuniting with Kyle at any moment.

(He missed him a lot.)

The idea of leaving did not seem all that improbable – nothing really tied him to the rather dreary flat since Mr Smith had scuttled off in a hurry, a flash of plaid and fluttering stacks of notes as he ran off to some book fair in Istanbul (that he had allegedly forgotten about) and was only due back late on Thursday night. To say Dan _wasn't_ irritated would have been a lie, but surprised he was not. Not only was his dad's day planner forever overflowing, the man also had an exasperating tendency to keep his head way up in the clouds, and his insistence on Dan coming home for his reading week, his “cross my heart” promise of a weekend of catching up only to then depart indefinitely wasn't exactly a shocking development.

 

Being home alone, Dan would force himself to get out of bed sometime in the late afternoon, would drag his tired body into the cold kitchen to make his first cup of coffee and watch crap telly for hours before finally, when the hospitable city lights flashed up outside the window, he would sit at his dad's desk with a weary sigh and read and study until his eyes burned too much to decipher his own increasingly disorderly handwriting – or until Dick sent him a “get your arse to bed” text after seeing him lurking online at four in the morning.

Dan hadn't exactly gone out of his way to speak to Kyle since they had parted at the train station (after his friend had kissed the soul out of him, because _why wouldn't he_ ) and Dan was trying very hard not to dwell on the past weekend all too much because the staggering and rather passionate memories _did things_ to his heart that might, he feared, land him in A &E sooner rather than later; but between his mind drifting off innumerable times throughout the day to pull him back into the peaceful warmth of Kyle's arms and being plagued by painfully realistic dreams about snuggling up to the younger man in bed while a glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, there was no avoiding the sweet, excruciating draw that made him stumble rather than walk and sigh more than he breathed.

 

Dan had a problem. A _dilemma_ on his hands.

He could justify their first kiss – a distraction tactic to save Kyle from an uncomfortable interaction with his meddlesome ex-girlfriend – and even the second time could be excused with as unpleasant a sentiment as _charity_ , possibly inspired by an impulsive need for intimacy and kindled by the heat of the moment, the heat of fireworks and the fever of shared laughter. Or maybe those chai teas had been refined with a lacing of rum.

(Leaving aside the fact that, genuine or not, the kiss had been so beyond compare that Dan wished he could frame it and hang it on his bedroom wall.)

But _this_ – this was different. Kyle had kissed him _again_. And no matter how many hours Dan spent brooding over it, he couldn't think of a plausible explanation that would shed light upon the matter. If locking lips under blooming fire flowers had been a mistake, a slip-up, all Kyle had to do was never speak of it again. All he had to do was pretend nothing had happened and that he had never made Dan feel so alive.

And yet, he had neither ignored the kiss nor attempted to laugh it off and Dan wondered if there _was_ something between them after all, whether Kyle felt more than what their barely blossoming friendship allowed him to (be it deep-rooted confusion or innocent tenderness – or, heaven forbid, _yearning_ even), or if the younger man had simply been curious. It would neither be the first nor the last time that Dan had encountered someone who wanted to _explore_. Their sexuality, their boundaries, whatever it was.

 

Wednesday passed in a laughably uneventful blur and the afternoon unfolded as if in slow-motion as Dan peered restlessly out the dirty window and over the washed-out city below – the modest beginnings of an eager wintertide storm were perched on the doorstep and nature appeared to have finally caught up and responded to the pinching cold with a panicked downpour of torrential rain. Relishing the heat smouldering from the sizzling radiator and warming up the dimly lit room, the young man sat at the wobbly kitchen table, sipping bitter coffee while he waited for the merest spark of motivation to flare up and inspire him to start chewing on whichever piece of literature was next on his seemingly infinite reading list.

Ever since he had stumbled into the vacant carriage on Sunday afternoon, losing track of time as his mind entered a state of utter confusion, Dan had near-constantly pondered over his somersaulting feelings and the closer the train had carried him towards the frenetic city, the more he had questioned whether he was _really_ going home – or whether he was _leaving_ it. He had thought about what _home_ meant to him, about the profoundness and gravity disguised behind the seemingly unremarkable four-letter word that went above and beyond a definition as commonplace and straightforward as “a place of residence”. Home was so much more than just the roof over his head; it was sincerity, warmth and safeness. It was being _unapologetically himself_ without overthinking his every word in fear of other people's opinions. Home was an _ideal_ which no dictionary may ever be able to conquer and analyse, no matter the number of outstanding professors that congregated in order to polish the phrasing of their definitions. And the more he had wondered and worried, the more Dan had recognised that the tender light which embraced his soul, the happiness that filled him when he was around Kyle, was becoming increasingly clouded with heaviness the nearer he drew to the familiar, tall buildings and his own four walls.

_Home is where the heart is._

And he knew who his heart belonged to.

 

Dan further came to realise that he had truly forgotten (or perhaps suppressed) how powerful, spine-crawling and breathtaking a kiss could feel and the positively hair-raising sensation had awoken emotions in him that he hadn't experienced since the messy breakup which he wished he could bury six feet under: a deep longing for tenderness, the wish to be somebody's monopoly. The need to be touched, in a way that went further than the casual interactions he was used to. He tried to resist putting a face to his innocent reveries, struggled to convince himself that he could brush it all off and pretend he was okay – but it wasn't as simple as that and Dan could only hope that he wouldn't become _even more_ childishly awkward around Kyle.

He puffed out a weary sigh as he eyed the last drops of coffee swirling around his gold-rimmed mug. It was nearing four o'clock, the sun was slowly slipping into the bleeding horizon and the remaining flicker of deep red light fled the empty corridor that stretched out to Dan's left. The boy could sense himself dwindle into a more unstable, despondent state of mind as the dusk lurking around him seemed to trickle into his thoughts. He craved and despised being alone and he never knew how to bring the two together.

Choosing fight over flight, Dan placed the porcelain cup on the sticky plastic tablecloth next to the sadly withered potted basil, snagged his phone and slowly began typing a short message.

 

**[26/11 3:42 pm] Dan:** Hi, can you talk?

He glared at the luminous screen for a few tedious minutes until he felt hyperaware of every single pixel and dropped the device on the pale green cushion next to him, watching the mellow raindrops race down the kitchen window and withstanding the temptation to check his phone every five seconds. It took Kyle a moment to reply.

 

**[26/11 3:58 pm] Kyle:** hey you! i'm at that gig

**[26/11 3:58 pm] Kyle:** with evie

**[26/11 3:59 pm] Kyle:** u ok? do u want me to call?

 

Dan felt like he should bide his time before replying, to avoid coming across as _desperate_ , but eventually sighed and shook his head – who was he trying to fool, pretending to be _suave_.

**[26/11 4:00 pm] Dan:** Oh no, it's fine

**[26/11 4:01 pm] Dan:** I was just thinking about you cause I'm home alone and bored

 

**[26/11 4:02 pm] Kyle:**  i'm gonna call u

 

Smiling at the screen, the older boy sighed.

**[26/11 4:03 pm] Dan:** No seriously, it's alright. Enjoy the gig, don't drink too much and be careful

 

**[26/11 4:05 pm] Kyle:** i'll try

**[26/11 4:05 pm] Kyle:** u sure tho? its not a problem at all

**[26/11 4:07 pm] Kyle:** i dont want u to feel lonely

 

Dan blinked and bit down on his lip, unsure of how to reply.

**[26/11 4:09 pm] Dan:** I'm okay, I promise

**[26/11 4:10 pm] Dan:** I guess I just miss you.

 

**[26/11 4:12 pm] Kyle:** fuck

**[26/11 4:12 pm] Kyle:** dont make me regret letting u go even more

**[26/11 4:13 pm] Kyle:** if u need anything or just wanna talk i'm here

**[26/11 4:13 pm] Kyle:** always

 

**[26/11 4:14 pm] Dan:** Thank you Ky

He hesitated.

**[26/11 4:15 pm] Dan:** ♥

 

The younger man didn't answer immediately and Dan became exceedingly nervous, fearing that he might have overstepped a line until his phone buzzed once again.

**[26/11 4:18 pm] Kyle:** ♥♥

 

Two hearts.

It took no more than that to make Dan's own heart race like a freight train as he fixated the screen, feeling overjoyed and jittery at the same time as the inconspicuous _online_ next to Kyle's name disappeared. It was peculiar and extraordinary that a simple, _tiny_ thing like this could throw Dan completely off balance in a matter of seconds and in the best possible way. He exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his knotted hair. He needed a haircut, desperately (and not only because Kyle had said so).

The discordant ringing of the doorbell jerked Dan back to a sallow reality and he stood hesitantly and jogged to the entrance, nearly slipping on the smooth floorboards. Pulling the front door open slowly and cautiously, he found himself face to face with Mr Smith, smiling at his son and holding up a bulging plastic bag bearing the elaborate red logo of the popular Thai restaurant down the street.

“Surprise!”

Dan gaped at his father who shrugged and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Never thought I'd say this, but I hope you're starving!”

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

For some reason, Kyle usually ended up wasting a perfectly enjoyable night out skulking (non-creepily) in the darkness outside whichever club he had stumbled into instead of taking pleasure in dancing freely in the relaxing company of good friends and drunk acquaintances. And he didn't even smoke.

The current performance was more or less a good average on his subjective entertainment scale, despite the regrettable circumstance that the music wasn't exactly his cuppa tea and the fact that the tall lead singer's intense voice was cutting sharply into his ears, making them feel as if they were stuffed with cotton wool. Truth be told, Kyle had only agreed to come along because he was aching for an interruption of the incessant wistful memories that trailed him like a sighing shadow ever since Dan had left – and because Evie adored the headliner and Kyle didn't want her to go alone. But alas, the band was the very last of _five_ that were supposed to perform tonight and seeing as he still had plenty of time to pretend to be enjoying himself, Kyle had left his friend to her off-key (if heartfelt) sing-along and had sneaked outside through the heavy double doors of the back entrance, inhaled the frigid air that instantly seemed to clear up his mind and breathed out hazy clouds as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his ill-chosen denim jacket, and slowly sauntered towards a desolate bicycle stand, leaning against the cold metal and kicking at an empty in-flight vodka bottle that lay discarded on the ground.

 

He couldn't stop thinking about Dan. He just couldn't.

The older man had messaged him twenty minutes ago when the first (rather talented) group was just wrapping up their short performance and Kyle had been entirely unable to put his mind to anything else ever since. He hoped his friend was alright. He hoped Dan wasn't feeling lonely. Kyle sighed deeply and ran a hand through his gelled back hair, letting his eyes flutter shut as a curiously dull sensation made his stomach tingle and goosebumps run down his arms. Almost since the very moment they had met, Dan had steadily occupied about eighty per cent of his headspace, and between struggling to figure out how to make the extraordinary and very self-conscious boy like and (most importantly) _trust_ him and hoping beyond hope that Dan wouldn't think he was imposing on his kindness in order to sort out his own farcical problems, Kyle had grown insanely fond of him incredibly quickly and to the point of feeling _afraid_ – afraid of not being enough, afraid of Dan getting hurt because of him, afraid of the boys going their separate ways the second this tiresome trial had passed like a set of gloomy rain clouds. But Dan coming home with him, spending time and taking meals with his family, had proven his worries wrong; and seeing the older boy lounge on his favourite blue sofa, sipping tea and watching badly-produced kids shows with his little siblings, sleeping in his bed and borrowing his clothes, Kyle had never once felt like he needed to adapt to the unfamiliar sight or like Dan was a new cutout indiscreetly added to an already perfectly intact collage, but rather like he was the fragment filling a blank that no one had noticed before. Yet again unable to clothe his emotions in words, Kyle only knew that since Dan had left, his parents' house felt just as bleak and hollow as it did whenever the twins were off at a sleepover, whenever his dad left for some conference or his mum had taken the night shift. Like a piece of the puzzle was lost.

He missed him a lot.

Kyle could only hope that Dan had felt as comfortable, as appreciated and protected as it had made the younger boy feel to have Dan by his side. That he had felt the love that coursed through Kyle whenever the other held his hand, whenever he smiled at him or laughed at one of his lame jokes.

 

_Love._

 

Pushing himself up, Kyle began walking up and down anxiously, disregarding the strangely uniformly dressed trio of smoking teens eyeing him sceptically as he shook out his hands and inhaled deeply a number of times. _Oh God_ , he knew what was happening, had known for a while now if he was being honest, and deep down, he was well aware that he had been trying to stay away from it for _days_ , to steer clear of _that word_.

_Love._

No more than four letters, and yet, joined together in the correct order they seemed like the most intimidating thing in the whole world.

Kyle loathed feeling lonely more than just about anything. He loved falling in love. And if he was being completely truthful with himself for once, he realised that it was not only during this past rather eventful weekend that Dan's smile had started making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It wasn't news that his heart started racing wildly whenever he saw the older boy from afar and that his brain appeared to short-circuit and fail to remember how to access its speech centre as soon as he gazed into those astounding blue eyes he found to be just _unbelievable_. That his thoughts had long-since become a confounding blur that more often than not revolved around a timid smile, a quiet voice and a shock of messy hair. Time and again he had tried to assure himself that he was simply (and understandably) on edge after all that had come to pass, that he was straining to find a way out of his predicament or at least a _distraction_ ; he had wondered if he had taken feigning to be madly in love with Dan too seriously and confused his own head until he had realised that _pretending_ had come suspiciously naturally to him from the moment that Dan had agreed to help him – and that, a good while ago, Kyle had simply stopped having to pretend.

He took a deep, trembling breath and laughed quietly to himself before he heard his name being called out in a clear voice, and peering at the back entrance of the rundown club, he spotted Evie squeezing through the heavy doors and striding towards him, confidently yet bearing a puzzled look on her face, her jet-black eyeliner and pink lipstick somehow meticulous even after being shoved around by sweaty mid-twenty-year-old men for over an hour.

 

“What's up? Have you had too much?”

Kyle shook his head, he hadn't had a single drop of alcohol – which did not make his near-meltdown any easier to swallow. Quite the contrary.

His mind raced back to Liv's crazy Halloween party, to holding Dan's hand for the first time and how easy it had felt. He recalled attempting (and failing) to determine the exceptional shade of blue that sparked from Dan's eyes when they were sat at the _Déjà Brew_ , just talking, and how Dan had fallen asleep on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. He remembered seeing him in the half-light of his dorm room for the very first time, when, in order to compensate for his nervousness, he had forced himself to be his most cheerful self, aware that he was coming on too strong yet unable to dial it down. He thought about kissing Dan and feeling like he was losing his mind over how crazy happy it made him feel.

No, he hadn't had too much. _He couldn't get enough._

The young man felt strangely short of breath as Evie stepped in front of him, frowning deeply and examining his face.

“Kyle? What's wrong?”

 

He shook his head and swallowed. “It's- it's nothing. Just thinking about Dan.”

His friend squinted her eyes in confusion and worry, and Kyle suddenly felt like he was going to burst into tears of staggering emotion. He stared into Evie's green eyes.

 

“I-I'm like ninety per cent sure I'm in love with him.”

 

 

 

**love** ( _noun_ )

: strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties

: affection and tenderness felt by lovers

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Mr Smith was in an uncommonly favourable mood.

Apparently, he had wrapped up his business a day early and left Istanbul around noon, had made a resolve to surprise his son with his favourite takeaway and finally make time for that badly needed evening of catching up – which felt rather one-sided since it mainly consisted of his own very detailed recollection of the avowedly gratifying book fair (in spite of grouchy publishers and disorganised signing sessions) while Dan silently chewed on a bag of prawn crackers and attempted to hide his face behind a tall glass of Coke, restlessly awaiting the very moment his father would ultimately run out of small talk material.

“So,” the older man finally said, crossing his legs as if preparing to conduct an informal conversation and immediately making Dan feel tense, “how's the reading going?”

 

“Oh, fine. _A Single Man_ was good, I liked it.”

 

His dad hummed and nodded. “What else is left on your list?”

 

“ _Rubyfruit Jungle_ by Rita Mae Brown?”

 

“Hmm, I haven't read it.”

Silence. Dan felt like he would be able to hear a pin drop.

“How was the weekend at your friend's?”

 

The boy frowned slightly. “You've already asked me that.”

 

Mr Smith rolled his eyes, though not appearing displeased, and pushed up his glasses. “Over the phone, yes. I'd like to hear more than _hi dad, yeah it was fine, talk soon_.”

 

The fizzy drink in Dan's hand spat tiny golden droplets into the air and sprayed his skin, and he ran a finger through the sticky beverage and sniffed. “It was fine.”

 

“And?”

 

“We, uh, we went to a winter fair thing in town and watched fireworks and s-stuff.”

He felt himself blush deeply at the unspoken memories that raged around his mind and took a minuscule sip so as to deflect the attention that was placed on him like a bull's eye.

 

“And _stuff_ , huh?” Mr Smith noted and cleared his throat, “Dan, I hope you haven't started smoking again, because-”

 

“I haven't.”

 

“Okay.” The older man nodded silently and the hypnotic ticking of the wall clock sounded like a hammer in Dan's head. “You know, your great-uncle-”

 

“I know.”

 

“Alright, alright.” The hint of a frown etched itself into his dad's forehead as he grabbed another cracker from the bag and took a small bite. “You could bring him home sometime, this Kyle.”

 

Sitting up slightly straighter, Dan licked his lips nervously. He wasn't sure he wanted Kyle to have a glimpse behind the scenes of his slightly disorganised and mostly cheerless home life just yet, especially not after having witnessed the joy of living in the well-arranged, love-filled Simmons household. “Why?”

 

“Because,” Mr Smith huffed, “that's what people do, isn't it? Invite friends over, grab a coffee and watch a movie ... something that doesn't revolve around gruesome true crime documentaries and searching the web for David Lynch interviews till four in the morning.”

 

“I don't-”

 

“I know, Dan. I was just-” he sighed loudly and wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “You could make it easier for us both, you know. _Talking_?”

 

Dan swallowed, yet remained quiet instead of contradicting his father – it was certainly not the first time someone had told him this, not even the first time _his dad_ had done so, and Dan couldn't say he disagreed with the statement – he did not exactly have a sense of humour that screamed _composure_. Mr Smith got up, gathered what plates and bowls he could carry and disappeared wordlessly into the kitchen, and Dan held his breath and listened to the familiar sounds of his dad loading the dishwasher – as much as he wanted to be right, he couldn't help feeling guilty about being so incommunicative and acting so painfully withdrawn from the man. In his defence, he had not been prepared to see him today, had not been ready to communicate and open up and force himself to _function_ to someone else's satisfaction, and because he despised feeling unprepared and vulnerable, he could sense himself inadvertently retreating into his shell, pulling away from any kind of interaction. It was not even like he didn't want to talk to his dad – on the contrary, he was downright _itching_ to tell him about Kyle, about how amazing their weekend had been; and yes, he _did_ want to introduce him to the man he was in love with (even though Mr Smith was hardly the “let's chitchat about your crush” type of dad). But there was a huge difference between planning on being sincere and actually _following through_.

He followed his dad into the kitchen, wringing his hands as he resolved to at least _try_. “Okay, so w-what if Kyle doesn't-”

 

“Listen, Dan,” the other interrupted faintly, “I'm tired, okay? It's been a long day and I'd like to have a quiet evening without fighting. Is that too much to ask?”

 

The young man swallowed down the lump in his throat and clenched his jaw. This was more like it, more like the discussions he was used to. “I wasn't trying to start a fight.”

 

His dad scowled at him, clearly unimpressed with his words, and Dan crossed his arms over his chest. “You don't have to actively _start_ a conflict to _provoke_ one.”

 

“How are you feeling provoked by me then?”

 

“I am feeling provoked by _this_ ,” his dad exclaimed, throwing his hands up exasperatedly, “this defensive behaviour, this _scepticism_. Ever since last year, I've been trying _so hard_ to get along. You've accused me of not trusting you again and again, but don't act like you're any better.”

 

“Am I supposed to _pretend_?” Dan asked seriously, annoyed at the tearful tremor in his voice.

 

“Believe it or not, I never did anything but what I believed was best for you.”

 

“Oh, _really_ ,” Dan muttered, staring at the grey kitchen tiles. He knew his dad was being honest, that he meant no harm, but an overpowering part of him was finding it _so hard_ to talk to the man, to acknowledge that things were _not good_ between them – and he knew exactly why.

 

“Yes, really,” Mr Smith mimicked his son, sighing in defeat, “I am your father after all, if I remember correctly.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Dan asked sarcastically and instantly felt regret as he looked up into his dad's blue eyes and saw the hurt that ran through them like a current, clear as day.

 

“You're not being fair, Dan. After everything ...” Mr Smith choked up for a moment and Dan bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Haven't we put each other through enough?”

 

The young man didn't reply. He had been burying so much guilt and shame in his conscience for such a long time now, he didn't know what to do with it – how was he supposed to put things right? How was he ever going to make amends for his self-centred actions?

“I just want you to trust me again,” he disclosed quietly, gulping back a sob.

 

Looking heartbreakingly crushed, his dad shook his head. “It's not like I don't trust you _per se_. I just- I'm not sure if I can trust you to do what's best for _you_ , to look after yourself and be honest with me. And frankly, how could I?”

He looked into his son's eyes and the boy could feel himself starting to tremble.

 

“I just wanted a way out.”

 

Sighing tiredly, Mr Smith slowly moved over to the kitchen table and fell into one of the uncomfortable chairs with a defeated slump. “If your mother had been there,” he began slowly, quietly, and Dan's chest immediately seized up with pain, “I just- I don't know what it would have done to her.”

 

Silence wrapped the small room in its dark wings and minute after minute passed as Dan fought the tears stinging his eyes, staring at the spotless worktop and thinking that it wasn't _fair_ that his choices were coming back to haunt him now. That defensiveness was his only way of protection.

“So, I guess guilt-tripping me m-makes you feel better?” he whispered and his dad looked up, a sad smile on his face.

 

“I'm not trying to guilt-trip you.” He sighed as he stood and walked past his son, making for his bedroom door, and with one hand on the handle, he glanced back at Dan one more time, looking serious and exhausted. He shook his head.

“If you _do_ feel guilty ... well, I'm sure you can figure out why.”

 

With that he closed the door with a final thud, leaving his son feeling as lost and helpless as ever, and slipping on his shoes and shrugging on his jacket, Dan disappeared silently through the front door and into the dark hallway.

 

 

 

**lost** ( _adjective_ )

: ruined or destroyed physically or morally

**//** a _lost_ soul

: unable to find the way

: lacking assurance or self-confidence

: hopelessly unattainable

**//** a _lost_ cause

 


	23. Crying Over Spilt Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I surprise myself.  
> This chapter is close to my heart and I really hope you like it at least a tiny bit.  
> Again, thank you so much to the people who always (or sometimes) leave a comment, I wouldn't be writing without you.  
> ♥♥

Dan was in trouble. He was truly in _so much_ trouble.

After the disheartening dispute with his dad, he had felt agitated and distressed and his lungs had been aching for a breath of fresh air, so he had scuffled down the stairs and out the front door in order to clear his head and hopefully compose himself enough to go back inside without getting chills of discomfort. But standing outside, the grovelling darkness had smothered him, gradually but surely until he _had_ to get away. Even just for an hour or two.

 _That's how all this started in the first place_ , Dan thought to himself, yet failed to gain control over his impulses as he let his feet guide him to the closest station and seconds before the doors slid shut, hopped on the first northbound train that would carry him towards his best friend's house within twenty minutes. _Although_ ... Ralph had not been in touch at all, had _explicitly_ told his friend that he had every intention to actually _get stuff done_ this week – and if Dan remembered correctly, the older man had an important essay to finish too. Honestly, the last thing he needed right now was an insanely busy and stressed-out Ralph getting annoyed at him for interrupting his learning. And without seeking it, a different idea suddenly tumbled through Dan's head, a _reassurance_ that had been planted in his soul by someone else entirely.

_If you ever need somewhere to crash or a place to find comfort, don't hesitate to come here, alright?_

_Whatever you need, we've got you._

And holding on to it like a lifeline, Dan simply missed his stop – or rather chose to disregard the singsong announcement that resounded through the train. The detour would add no more than half an hour to the journey, so what difference did it make? So he waited and brooded, bounced his leg and chewed his lip until he reached his destination and all but stormed out of the compartment and down the vaguely familiar road. It was only on the last stretch towards the welcoming home, upon noting that he should forewarn his friend instead of making a surprise appearance, that Dan realised two things: the boy was most probably still out – and Dan had left his phone at home.

His dad would _freak out_.

And as he began walking faster and faster through the drizzling rain, the panic that coursed through Dan's veins and crashed into his thoughts like a tidal wave rapidly accelerated his heartbeat and rendered his breathing increasingly erratic until he stumbled up the short gravel path and, struggling to catch his breath, pressed the doorbell with shaking hands. The door swiftly swung open and Mr Simmons stared at him with worry flashing through his kind eyes.

“Dan? What are you doing here?”

And the words that the boy had composed in his head, the vague explanation for his unannounced arrival that was supposed to keep his last remaining ounce of dignity intact, got stuck in his throat as tears started spilling from his eyes.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Kyle felt like he was losing his _bloody_ mind.

About fifteen minutes ago, an unexpected phone call from his dad had forced him to rush outside the sweaty club (where the noise level wouldn't make it impossible to make sense of the man's muffled yet clearly pressing words) and the sudden chill and deafening silence of the sombre night had made his voice cut that much deeper.

 

“ _Dan showed up on our doorstep ten minutes ago. Something must have happened, Kyle, he's very upset.”_

 

And even though he had told his oldest son hours ago that he better not expect to be picked up anytime after seven, the man gave his word to collect the boy as quickly as possible. But Mr Simmons' idea of _quick_ wasn't nearly quick enough for Kyle who was marching up and down in the freezing cold in front of the buzzing club, his hands shivering and the lump in his throat growing bigger by the minute, inconsolable despite Evie's well-intended attempts to calm him down, her assertions that Dan was “probably fine” and it might all just be “a big misunderstanding”. But something was very wrong, Kyle just _knew_ , and he needed to see Dan as soon as possible. He _had_ to see his face, to hear his voice.

When the anthracite car pulled into the provisional-looking car park, Kyle forcefully opened the passenger door and practically jumped into the seat, and the first words that slipped from his lips sounded strained and mildly hysterical.

“He's not hurt, is he?”

 

Mr Simmons shook his head. “No, I don't think so. But he hasn't said much.” He smiled vacantly. “Hello, Evie.”

 

“Hi, Mr Simmons.”

 

Kyle coughed faintly. “Well, what _has_ he said?”

 

Starting the car as soon as the two had buckled up, the older man heaved a sigh and the worry that darkened his eyes only succeeded in spurring Kyle's own concern.

“It was all a bit ... incomprehensible. He showed up crying and-”

 

“He was crying?”

 

“He seems _distraught_ , Kyle.” Mr Simmons shot his son a sidelong glance. “But your mother is looking after him, so he'll probably be doing cartwheels by the time we get back,” he attempted to lighten the mood, but Kyle remained silent.

Sighing again, the man switched on the windscreen wipers. “From what I understand he had a fight with his dad and impulsively decided to come see you, but forgot his phone and worries about what his father will say. Your mum promised to look up their landline number, she just couldn't find the phone book on the fly.”

 

“I've got the number,” Kyle mumbled, staring out the window.

 

“Oh, good.” Mr Simmons nodded and they drove on in silence, quickly dropping off Evie (who made her friend _swear_ he would text her with an update as soon as he could) before they finally arrived in the familiar, overgrown driveway, and Kyle barely waited for the car to come to a halt before he jumped out and started jogging up to the front door that was swung open before he reached it. Mrs Simmons greeted her son with an encouraging smile and realising that she looked less concerned than the young man had anticipated, Kyle instantly felt a little less heartbroken himself.

“Come in, honey. You must be freezing.” She squeezed his arm. “He's in the living room.”

 

Foregoing taking off his boots and coat and with his heart beating loudly in his ears, Kyle strode straight into the brightly lit room. Dan was huddled into a corner of the blue sofa, his shoulders hunched and wearing one of Kyle's favourite hoodies while his wet denim jacket was draped over the clicking radiator by the door. Though he wasn't crying anymore, he was still a heartbreaking, sniffling and shivering mess, his eyes red-rimmed and full of anxious energy, his face pale and notably puffy. Jo and Emma were sat next to him and while the young girl's green eyes were glued to the screen of the television, Jonathan's small hand was resting on Dan's shoulder and patting it reassuringly, and Kyle felt like his heart might just as well shatter into a million pieces.

As soon as Jo spied his brother standing helplessly in the doorway, he smiled a small smile and got up off the sofa and the sudden movement prompted Dan to look up too. The friends' eyes met across the room like they had many times before and swallowing down his unease, Kyle hurried to Dan's side, sinking into the cushions and immediately wrapping him up in his arms. The older boy practically melted into the warm embrace, his body feeling so small suddenly, so fragile; he was snivelling and digging his fingers into Kyle's sweatshirt and the younger man noted half-consciously that his parents were discreetly ushering the twins out of the room (under hushed protests from Emma who seemed bent on finishing her show) and shut the door quietly behind them.

After a moment of comforting silence, Kyle tilted his body back, gingerly framed his friend's face with his hands and examined it carefully. Dan looked deeply into his eyes, blinking and knitting his brows, and when he opened his mouth, Kyle held his breath in anticipation.

“Are you wearing eyeliner?”

 

Staring dumbfounded for a few seconds, Kyle finally huffed out a laugh.

“Evie insisted.”

 

Dan smiled timidly. “It suits you.”

 

“It's _itchy_ ,” Kyle complained and when Dan chuckled softly, his heart fluttered like the wings of a caged bird. He wasn't sure if Dan would want him to ask what had happened, whether he was okay talking about the fight or if Kyle's questions would end up doing more harm than good.

_We should probably call Mr Smith first._

“Dan, um,” he began and the older boy gazed up at him expectantly, “I thought I could- I'll give you my-” Kyle exhaled shakily. “You should really call your dad.”

 

Dan swallowed, then nodded haltingly. He looked terrified.

“He's gonna be _so_ fucking mad, you don't even-” he fell quiet and Kyle lay a hand on his cheek.

 

“One step at a time, yeah?”

Dan breathed weakly and nodded, and as he pressed the borrowed phone to his ear, Kyle cleared his throat and rose from the sofa, intending to subtly distance himself, but Dan grasped his sleeve and held on tight until he sat back down and intertwined their fingers in gentle support.

Watching Dan cry his way through a brief yet clearly very emotional phone conversation hurt even more than Kyle had expected and as soon as Dan hung up with a stuttered sigh, the younger man hugged him again, sharing as much warmth and affection as he possibly could whilst muttering sweet nothings into his ear until Dan had recomposed himself enough to drink in breath after even breath. Kyle had never seen him so _heartsick_ before and he deeply hoped he never would again.

“What- what did he say?”

 

“That I scared him, that he's glad I'm with you and he'll pick me up tomorrow morning – i-if your parents don't mind me staying.”

 

“Of course you can stay,” Kyle assured his friend and clasped his hand tightly. “That doesn't sound too bad though, does it? What your dad said, I mean.”

 

Dan shook his head vehemently and when he replied, his voice was faint, his eyes boring into an invisible spot on the maroon carpet. “I really fucked up.”

 

Kyle frowned. “Come on now, it's not like you meant to hurt anyone. I bet-”

 

“You don't understand, Kyle.”

 

Silence abruptly fell over the room and the younger man became uncomfortably aware of the heavy rain pattering on the roof, a rumbling and steadfast sound.

“What do you mean?”

 

Dan hardly glanced at Kyle, looking ashamed and barely able to meet his gaze. “Last year, I ... s-some stuff happened and I-” he swallowed, “instead of dealing with my problems like the grown-up I'm supposed to be, I did something really irresponsible and-” tears welled up in the boy's blue eyes and Kyle could feel himself choke up at the sight, “I ran away from home like some stupid twelve-year-old who doesn't get what he wants and let my dad believe that something terrible might have happened to me.”

Struggling to fight back the tears moistening his own eyes, Kyle rubbed his friend's hand lovingly and with silent compassion. He didn't know what to say.

“I fucked everything up _so bad_ and now I can barely talk to my dad without one of us starting a fight over _whatever_ , because he doesn't trust me at all and I can't even blame him.” Dan huffed quietly and ran a sleeve over his eyes. “It's like I've learned _nothing_ , not a single fucking thing.”

 

Shaking his head, Kyle grasped the other's shoulders tightly, as if trying to keep him upright, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion. “Look, Dan. No matter what your dad says, I'm sure that above all, he's just glad you're safe.” Dan nodded between restrained sobs and Kyle leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “You'll talk things out and it's gonna be okay, you'll see.”

 

“But I- I just proved that every time I promised he could trust me and every time I got angry at him for not doing so, I was full of shit.”

 

Kyle swallowed. He knew that it was not his place to talk Dan out of this – he had neither met Mr Smith nor did he know nearly enough about the circumstances of the tangibly delicate situation to pass judgement on whether or not Dan had messed up as badly as he claimed. Yet despite his unknowingness, Kyle was dead certain that his friend did not deserve to feel as awful as he did now and so he stifled a sigh and grasped the back of Dan's neck, bringing him close and kissing his forehead.

“What's done is done. You're here now and I'm not gonna let you beat yourself up about it. You're clearly sorry, so ... what's that saying – no use crying over spilt milk?”

 

“Yeah,” Dan scoffed, “only instead of milk, this is my relationship with my only living parent we're talking about.”

 

Kyle nodded and enclosed Dan's icy hands gently with his own. “I get that this isn't just some _squabble_. But as long as you're with me, I will not watch you torture yourself. I just won't. So I'm gonna make you a cuppa and we're gonna watch a movie. Your pick. What do you say?”

 

Exhaling at length, Dan eventually nodded hesitantly. “Okay.”

 

While the older boy (whose personal space was soon to be invaded by two cackling and bickering ten-year-olds) began slowly sifting through the expansive and very colourful DVD and VHS collection that was lined up along one wall of the spacious room, Kyle changed into a pair of well-worn tracksuit bottoms and a dry sweatshirt and put the kettle on, running a hand through his hair and sensing his shoulders slump with exhaustion.

“You alright?” his mum asked delicately and Kyle forced a smile.

 

“Yeah, I think so.”

 

“What did his dad say?”

 

“He's gonna pick him up tomorrow. Dan can stay, right?”

 

“Of course he can stay,” his mother dismissed the question with a wave of her hand and stood up on tiptoes to pull two matching star pattern mugs from the cupboard above her head. “You should have seen Jo,” she said proudly, “he tried really hard to make Dan feel better.”

 

“I'm glad he was here.” The young man smiled to himself. “And you,” he added and his mother beamed from ear to ear. While the tea was brewing away, the room sank into a soothing silence and Kyle watched Dan and his siblings through the kitchen door, a smile creeping onto his face as his friend laughed at something that Emma had said to her twin.

“Mum,” he blurted out, his mind suddenly thrown back to the significant thoughts that had struck him earlier that night and that he was bursting to utter aloud, and when Mrs Simmons looked curiously into his eyes, Kyle's stomach flittered anxiously and to the point of making him feel well-nigh nauseated.

“I, um- I think I'm-” he took a deep breath, “I think I like him. You know ... _like_ like him.”

 

His mother regarded him with a look that seemed to sink into his very soul before an over-the-moon smile lit up her face and she leaned up to kiss his cheek loudly.

“I _knew_ it,” she whispered triumphantly and Kyle failed to bite back the smile that her response brought to his lips.

“And I'm very happy for him,” the woman added, shrugging whimsically, and Kyle flashed her a questioning look. “He's lucky to have such a handsome admirer.”

Though a self-conscious laugh escaped him at his mother's words, Kyle suddenly felt crushingly overwhelmed by the day's events, the eye-opening realisations that had turned his world upside down within mere hours, the dread and unease that had threatened to suffocate him after the urgent exchange with his dad and the hardship of seeing Dan so low and dejected, and the laughter dried up in his throat as he hid his face in his hands, breathing harshly until his mother began shushing him and stroking his back soothingly.

“It hurt, didn't it? Seeing him like that?” she asked quietly and Kyle wiped stubbornly at his eyes.

 

“I just- I want him to be happy. That's all I want, mum. That's all I really want.”

 

Seemingly coming to a conclusion, Mrs Simmons poured a dash of milk into each of the festive mugs and placed them on a small tray, smiling fondly as she pressed it into Kyle's hands.

“He already seems so much calmer since you talked to him,” she asserted with unswerving optimism, “I believe _you_ make him happy, Kyle.”

She patted his cheek comfortingly and after taking a determined breath, Kyle straightened himself and wandered back into the living room, and his heart jumped with a jolt of affection when Dan turned around and smiled at him.

 

 

 

/ /

 

 

 

Lying in Kyle's bed late at night, Dan felt as if he was experiencing some sort of strange, twisted déjà vu – or like he had been transported a few days back in time.

The printed photos on the wall to his left, the star stickers littering the ceiling, the beams of milky moonlight filtering through a gap in the blue curtains and bouncing off the accumulated Coke cans – everything was exactly the same. And of course, Dan couldn't sleep.

He couldn't sleep because of how defeated his dad had sounded. Not resentful or (justifiably) disappointed – just _tired_. And why wouldn't he be, seeing as Dan had probably forfeited what little trust had been left in his father's heart by deciding to do the _one_ thing which he had sworn never to repeat. Speaking to Mr Smith on the phone and hearing his quiet, all but toneless voice, he couldn't help recalling the man's disbelieving expression when Dan had come home last year, when he had walked through the door as if nothing had happened, as if weeks hadn't passed and he hadn't betrayed the two people he loved most in the world. He couldn't help thinking about how Ralph had stopped talking to him and how they hadn't seen each other for months, and even though they had since reconciled and slowly managed to recover their relationship, Dan still wondered whether part of it would forever be broken.

He couldn't sleep because he was genuinely afraid of tomorrow, of recognising the resignation in his father's eyes, the “I knew it”.

“ _I knew you'd disappoint me.”_

And yet, as draining as this whole day had been, at least he was with Kyle now, his brilliant friend who had tried his hardest to remain rational, to console Dan without sugarcoating the situation, and had slowly but surely made the boy accept this problem as something he would _fucking deal with_.

Dan was pretty damn sure that he wouldn't have gotten through it without Kyle.

He sighed more loudly than he had intended and immediately, the blankets that were piled up on the lilo next to the bed began rustling softly as Kyle turned to face him.

“You okay?” he whispered and Dan swallowed down the lump that had formed in his throat. He _was_ feeling alright now – despite everything – and he could hardly tell Kyle that he would feel _even better_ if he could snuggle up to him.

 

“Yeah, I-I'm okay. Just can't sleep.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“'s not your fault.”

_Silence._

“Ky?”

 

“Yeah?”

What now, _“hold me”_? There was no way on _earth_ Dan could ever say those words, he would die of embarrassment. And so, coming to a decision, he finally held his breath and pulled back the covers ever so slightly.

“Please?”

 

Kyle clearly understood immediately. He didn't utter a single word – there was no need to – but quickly got up and awkwardly slipped into bed next to Dan, and after lying still (and as far away from each other as was humanly possible on the narrow mattress) for a few maddening minutes, Kyle muttered _“fuck this”_ under his breath and shuffled closer to the older boy, hugging him tight and pulling him close – and Dan thought he might spontaneously combust. Kyle's body was warm and firm, his embrace strong yet gentle, and as Dan buried his face in the crook of his neck, the younger man kissed his head softly and slowly ran a hand down his back.

“Tomorrow, when you go home ...”

He didn't continue.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I-I know you and your dad are gonna have to sort things out first and that it's probably gonna take a while, but I want you to call me when you can, alright?”

 

Dan glanced up at him in the all-embracing, protective darkness and his friend's face shone with determination. “Why?”

 

Kyle sighed, then shifted subtly and leaned his forehead against Dan's. “Cause I need to know if you're okay. And to cheer you up in case you're not. I just-” he ran a hand through Dan's dark hair and gazed so intensely into his eyes that the older man forgot where he was for a moment, “I need to hear your voice at the end of the day.”

He planted a feather-light kiss on his brow.

“And at the beginning of the day.”

Another kiss on his cheekbone, then he halted.

“Maybe you should just move in with us.”

 

Dan giggled faintly, suddenly feeling giddy with emotion.

“What do you think your parents would say if I did?”

 

Kyle laughed. “Oh, trust me, they would be _delighted_. Especially my mum.”

For a few minutes, the only sounds echoing through the room were the cold rain knocking on the window, the wind shaking the leafless trees and Kyle's deep, calming breaths, and Dan slowly felt himself sink into the comforting warmth of the other's body, into the safety of his arms.

 

“I'm not sure why she likes me so much,” he whispered eventually and Kyle hummed in response, the low sound resonating through Dan's bones like a pleasant shock wave.

 

“Do you want me to write a list?”

 

The older boy shoved him playfully. “Shut up.”

 

Kyle sniggered. “Because _one_ , you're cute, _two_ , you're smart, _three_ , you're-”

Huffing a small laugh, Dan shoved him again and the younger man chuckled.

“She likes you because you're great with the twins. She likes you because you're humble and polite and because you don't take _all this_ for granted.” Kyle brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across Dan's forehead. “But most importantly, she likes you because she knows that I-” he faltered and Dan held his breath, “b-because you make me happy. Very happy. Very, extremely, incredibly-”

 

Attacking Kyle's sides with his fingers, the older boy effectively silenced his friend who groaned in feigned pain before he pulled Dan closer still and sighed contentedly into his messy hair.

“You make me so happy, Dan.”

 

Wrapping his arms around Kyle's middle, Dan clung to him as he pressed his forehead into the younger boy's shoulder.

“I'm glad I do.”

 


End file.
